Denial
by Lady Papillon Rose
Summary: Tart's not sure how he feels about Pudding, but when she falls ill with the flu and through strange coincidence he ends up forced to aid her, he realizes that his denial issues need to be handled. TartPudding, very fluffy towards the end.
1. Confusion and Sacrifices

Disclaimer/A.N.: Working on ToS (Terms of Sentience) was draining me, so I decided to work with this idea that's been nagging me since I read the last three volumes of the Tokyo Mew Mew manga. This entire fic's based on the manga, as I haven't seen the anime yet, and there's a lot of speculation and rationalizing going on, since the manga leaves a bit to the imagination in terms of explanation. I'll try not to be OOC with anyone, although in some cases it'll have to stay. If there is anything painful just drop me a review and let me know. Oh, yeah. Disclaimer. I don't own Tokyo Mew Mew. The people who own it do. By the way, this concerns the Pudding/Tart relationship, which just didn't get it's screen/page time in the manga, in my opinion.  
  
Denial  
  
By: Papi-chan  
  
"She's _stupid_!! All humans are stupid!!"  
  
"I don't see how that's any of your business."  
  
"And obviously you're stupid too, because you're sitting around fawning over a stupid human while we COULD be continuing with the PLAN that was your idea in the first place!!"  
  
"...there are synonyms for stupid, you know."  
  
In actuality, the entire argument was stupid, and, despite his desire to win it, Tart was well aware of how petulant and childish he was being. Especially since Kish didn't seem to care one way or the other, continuing to gaze longingly at the sea of stars surrounding their ship. More than likely, Tart thought, rather bitterly, he was daydreaming about Ichigo, the pink-haired witch that seemed to be thwarting their attempts to wreak havoc more often and with more success. Alongside the other four Mew Mews, that was, all who were now seemingly capable of handling Kirema Animas on their own, sans Ichigo's assistance, although it was much more effective if the five annoyances fought as a team.  
  
Tart was really beginning to despise the human race.  
  
And it pissed him off to no end that Kish had seemingly developed feelings for one of the pathetic, destructive lifeforms, especially Ichigo. Had it been any other human...well, Tart still wouldn't have liked it in the least, but Ichigo was a special case. He hated her with a burning passion. Especially since she always had a 'midget' quip handy when he showed up. Tart ground his teeth together angrily, remembering the last volley of insults that had passed between them, how he'd foolishly lost his cool and let loose a wave of energy that not only missed Ichigo by a mile, but released the one person he hated more than Ichigo. Or Kish for being a prime example of a lovestruck idiot. Or himself for having to fight the urge to blush whenever she invaded his thoughts. Which was an awful lot, lately. He wondered if he was losing his mind.  
  
"I really don't see why it bothers you so much, anyway," Kish said offhandedly, not even turning to look at the younger alien with a contemptuous flourish that only Kish could pull off...without even trying. "So what if I have a bit of a crush on--"  
  
"Our enemy?" Tart interjected, annoyed at how casually Kish was referring to what could only be treachery to their mission. Didn't he even care whether they failed or not? "Someone who would probably kill you...no, all of us, if given the chance?"  
  
"Ichigo's not like that. I don't think any of them are. Humans aren't naturally killers, remember?"  
  
"Don't make me LAUGH!" Tart snapped, seething with how ridiculous the statement was. "A race that decimates their own planet for entire thousands of years is perfectly harmless?"  
  
"Most of them aren't even aware of the damage they're causing, Tart. And anyway, I was referring to OTHER lifeforms. Can you imagine your precious Pudding strangling you with one of her little rings?"  
  
Had Kish bothered to turn around, he would have noted that Tart was probably the first of their race to turn several entirely different hues (including blue, which would have really intrigued him) within the span of only 5 seconds. But he didn't, and thus missed history in the making.  
  
Tart wasn't even sure what livid meant, but it thoroughly described him as he finally lost it and threw one of his famous tantrums, squeezing his eyes shut and screaming, "I HATE PUDDING!! I HATE HER MORE THAN ANYONE ON THAT STUPID PLANET!! AND DON'T YOU EVER MENTION THAT...THAT STUPID MONKEY GIRL AROUND ME EVER AGAIN OR I'LL..."  
  
Kish turned to face him, a snide smirk on his face. "You'll do what, midget?"  
  
Tart shot him a horrible look. "I don't like you."  
  
"You don't like much of anything, do you?" Kish slowly levitated himself from his perch in front of the window, floating only a few inches from Tart's reddened face. "I've got a question for you. Why do you hate humans so much?"  
  
Tart regarded him sullenly before replying, almost inaudibly, "Because they're weak...and..they're....screwing up our planet and...."  
  
"I mean aside from what you think you know. What do you really know about humans, Tart? What do you know about Ichigo? Or Pudding, for that matter?"  
  
Tart was silent, unsure of how to respond. Nothing didn't seem like a good defense.  
  
Kish sighed, floating off toward his quarters within the ship. "Maybe if you stopped acting like you personally have a reason to hate them, you wouldn't be so in denial about how you really feel," he called back, just before vanishing.  
  
"I AM _NOT_ IN DENIAL!!" Tart shouted at his retreating form. He lowered himself onto the platform Kish had occupied only minutes before, staring out at the blue and silver globe of Earth in what he wanted to believe was utter hatred.  
  
Kish was an idiot.  
  
He was surrounded by idiots.  
  
Tart reached up to punch the window in frustration...and suddenly thought of a better way to rid himself of his pent-up aggression. He closed his eyes, smiling oddly, and disappeared with his destination in mind.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Wel..." Sigh. Start over. "Welcome to..." Sigh in frustration. Start over.  
  
At that point, Ichigo Momomiya tired of watching Lettuce attempt to greet the rapidly-growing-annoyed customers and decided to move in, calling cheerfully, "Lettuce, you're needed in the kitchen! I'll take their order."  
  
Lettuce looked up, her cheeks flushed with embarrassment as usual, a brilliant smile on her face. "Gotcha, Ichigo!"  
  
A knowing look passed between the two girls, and Lettuce bowed politely to the table of middle-school aged girls before heading off toward the kitchen with her long lime-tinted braids trailing behind her. Ichigo sighed with relief, grabbing the heart-shaped waiter's pad (sometimes she wondered where the heck Ryou found it all; half the china seemed custom made) within her apron and walking over to the table, shaking her head. Lettuce was getting better; at least she didn't faint, which she'd done a couple of times at the beginning, but her extreme shyness still seemed to hinder her from engaging in at least the most rudimentary of conversation with strangers. Ichigo found it weird that Lettuce had no trouble talking to either her or the other girls (or Ryou or Keiichiro, for that matter, although she appeared a little bashful around Ryou--although Ichigo suspected that that was for other reasons). Maybe their experiences had drawn them close enough that she no longer considered them strangers.  
  
"We'll take two cups of strawberry tea with artificial sweetener, one banana split and a medium peach parfait."  
  
"Coming right up!" Ichigo replied, hastily noting the uselessness of requesting artificial sugar alongside confections whose fat content completely defeated the purpose of trying to lighten the tea. It wasn't any of her business, she thought, with a rather mischievous grin.  
  
The pink-haired girl made a quick once over of the cafe fondly on her way to the counter to deliver the order to Zakuro (after noting how badly Zakuro handled customer service Ryou had appointed her to kitchen and order reception duties; Zakuro wasn't extraordinarily skilled in the 'Service with a smile' doctrine). Even without the generous pay, Ichigo really enjoyed spending so much time with her friends, even if they were working. However, the gala atmosphere of Cafe Mew Mew made the entire thing seem like a really wild party instead of an actual business, what with Pudding swinging from the rafters like the inspiration behind her metamorphosis, Zakuro glaring at them all as if they were insects, Mint either not working or being theatrical, Lettuce costing Ryou thousands (maybe millions, not that it mattered) in china by the hour and Ryou and Keiichiro conspicuously absent, as if afraid to be caught dead working in a place where pink and red were the prominent colors, although occasionally Ryou did show up to pick fights with her, with Keiichiro close behind to break them up.  
  
The day was no different from any, despite an increase in service given that it was noon, on a Saturday, right after cram school, so the cafe was much more crowded than normal. Zakuro leaned over the counter, seemingly lost in thought; Mint thumbed through a magazine idly while sipping a cup of tea that probably belonged to a waiting customer; and the sound of shattering dishes followed by apologizes indicated that Lettuce occupied driving Keiichiro out of his mind in the kitchen. Pudding seemed different, however.  
  
The blonde girl was the youngest of the crew, being only 8 years old, and Ichigo was certain that Ryou was breaking someone's child labor law by allowing her to work at the cafe, but Pudding had insisted as if her life depended on employment...and while she would never admit while Mint was within earshot, Ichigo actually liked Pudding's antics...which were strangely skewered at the moment. Ichigo watched with interest as Pudding literally stumbled into the counter with an order slip, banging her head and jumping up almost simultaneously to yell "Sorry!", then studied the sheet of paper in her hand as if she couldn't see it correctly.  
  
"...so many letters..." Pudding muttered, somewhat dazedly; the slip actually listed three banana-strawberry milkshakes for Table 4, however, she couldn't make out exactly what the paper said. Her vision was blurry, for some reason. "Four...no...three orange splits...funny, didn't know we made those...for Table....7?" Pudding looked up, scanning the counter for what she believed was the correct, seeing nothing but a tray containing 3 tall glasses of slushy pink liquid. She wasn't exactly sure what an orange split was, least of all what it was supposed to look like...but she had enough sense to know that whatever she was looking for wasn't there.  
  
"Zakuro, isn't the order for the orange splits ready?"  
  
Zakuro shot her one of her famous looks. "We don't make orange splits."  
  
"Then who's the idiot that ordered them??" Pudding shouted, loud enough to attract the attention of half the cafe. Ichigo sensed some sort of disaster approaching and literally dashed over to the little girl, snatching the order slip from her.  
  
"Pudding, this is three milkshakes for Table 4...which is right there on the counter."  
  
"Oh." Pudding looked confused, and Ichigo noted that her complexion wasn't as rosy as usual. "How could I POSSIBLY read it wrong??"  
  
She dropped to her knees, bawling rather theatrically. "Pudding is STUPID!! HOW CAN I POSSIBLY PUT ON A PERFORMANCE IF I CAN'T EVEN READ THE LYRICS??"  
  
She was making a scene, which was normal, but despite the comedy relief Ichigo was certain it wasn't good for business. Leaning down to Pudding's level, Ichigo attempted to placate her, by saying, comfortingly, "You're not stupid, Pudding. You probably just read it wrong because it was in Mint's handwriting. That's all."  
  
Mint obviously had wonderful hearing, because she shot an evil glare in Ichigo's direction. "I beg your pardon?"  
  
Pudding smiled, leaping up cheerfully. "So I have a future in showbiz after all!! Yay!!" She grabbed the tray, bounding off towards the entrance.  
  
"Pudding, Table 4 is THAT WAY."  
  
"I'm on it!!"  
  
The crash that ensued, alongside several screams and other unidentifiable yet worrying noises made her a liar, and caused Ichigo to wince. Zakuro shook her head. Mint joined her two friends at the counter, watching the scene of chaos unfolding as Pudding attempted to clean up the mess she'd made and was now worsening...with a handsaw.  
  
"Where on Earth did she get that saw, anyway?" Ichigo muttered in awe, amazed that someone could possibly be clumsier than Lettuce. "Where does she get any of her props?" Mint replied absently. "It's a real conundrum." "A what?" "Never mind. What's wrong with her?"  
  
At that moment Pudding sunk to her knees, coughing violently. Ichigo found it strange later on that although Zakuro was positioned behind the counter, she reached the little girl at the same time as both herself and Mint.  
  
"Pudding, are you okay?" Mint asked, concerned. Pudding coughed a few more times, then looked up at Mint with tears of exertion in her eyes. "Yes, just a bit dizzy," she answered, with the same cheerful smile she always wore. "Probably tired from my last autograph signing."  
  
Mint resisted the urge to say, "And when was that?" She and Ichigo helped the younger girl to her feet, flinching at how warm her hands were. Almost as if she had a fever.  
  
"Um, Pudding, maybe you should take a break..." Ichigo said nervously. Maybe Pudding was sick...it would explain her stranger-than-normal behavior.  
  
"I'm fine!! And we're wasting time!! Time is MONEY, after all!" Pudding yelled, breaking free and running off toward a table of girls that had been hailing them for some time.  
  
"I think she's catching a cold." Mint said thoughtfully, and Zakuro nodded. "She needs to go home early."  
  
"Pudding would never leave a shift early unless it was some sort of emergency," Ichigo interjected. "She's still not convinced that Ryou wouldn't dock her pay."  
  
"It would be pointless. After all, it's not like I can't afford to give you all a raise."  
  
Ichigo would have let out a shriek, had her tail and ears popping out not been a sufficient expression of her surprise at finding Ryou standing right behind her. "WILL YOU STOP DOING THAT??"  
  
"Actually, he's been there for awhile." Mint pointed out. "You're just really inobservant."  
  
"Hey!"  
  
"Where did she get a handsaw that can cut through marble, anyway?" Ryou asked, noticing the hole in the floor from Pudding's clean-up attempt.  
  
"The floor is marble?" Ichigo looked shocked. "Who in their right mind puts a marble floor in a cafe??"  
  
"Who doesn't?" Mint asked sharply.  
  
Ryou rolled his eyes, somewhat disturbed at how easily they both lost track of the conversation. "It's marble because I could afford it. What's wrong with Pudding?"  
  
"Other than her using a handsaw to clean up broken glass and not being able to read the number four in my beautiful calligraphy..."  
  
"Isn't that normal?"  
  
"The handsaw maybe, but--"  
  
"She has a fever." Zakuro said simply, and Ichigo marveled at her talent for ending what would have been a lengthy debate with one sentence. The older girl may have not said very much, but when she did it was worth listening to.  
  
Ryou looked worried. "How bad?"  
  
"How come?"  
  
"There's a really bad strain of the flu going around..." He paused, then looked at the three girls apprehensively. "You did get the vaccination during flu season a couple of months ago, right?"  
  
Ichigo nodded, remembering how badly she'd reacted to the very thought of a needle going into her arm. "Yeah."  
  
Mint nodded too, along with Zakuro. "I'm pretty sure we all got it."  
  
"Hm." Ryou was silent for a moment, before calling Pudding's name loudly enough to be heard over the din of the cafe. "Hey, Pudding, could you come here for a second?"  
  
"Pudding reporting for duty!!" The blonde girl almost screamed, crashing into a couple of vases and flower arrangements...and heading at Ryou at top speed with a tray of food.  
  
"Whoa!!" Ryou shouted, jumping back right before she ran dead into him with the tray of full glasses...and it didn't help, because Pudding swerved too and all but dumped the entire tray of liquid on his shirt, knocking them both back into the counter and collapsing breathlessly in his lap amongst the remains of what had been, at one point, probably expensive glasses full of some red juice that now stained Pudding's uniform and would have dyed Ryou's shirt, had he not very wisely been wearing black. Ichigo stifled a giggle, and even Zakuro smiled a bit, but Ryou was not amused in the least. "Please don't fire me!!" Pudding cried, frantically dusting the shards of glass from his lap, her cheeks flushed. "I'm suffering from fatigue caused by my millions of adoring fans worshiping me night and day!! I can't help it!!"  
  
"If I was going to fire you, I'd have done it when you broke the front window by swinging into it during your Tarzan stunt," Ryou replied tartly, gently pushing her away and standing up gingerly, aware of the copious amount of broken glass (some of which Pudding was sweeping in every which direction.) "Ichigo, can you get that?"  
  
"Yeah..." Ichigo replied, too surprised to be indignant that, once again, Ryou had not asked that slacker Mint to engage in any kind of physical activity.  
  
Pudding seemed dazed, suddenly swaying on her feet again. "I don't feel good...shouldn't have eaten that strawberry shortcake.." she muttered to no one in particular, "...and the negimaki...and that sushi Lettuce forgot to deliver..."  
  
She did look rather pale, Ryou noted, and her behavior was extreme even for Lettuce--Pudding at least had enough sense not to...he stopped himself before he could discount any of her antics. "Pudding, did you get your flu shot this year?"  
  
Pudding glanced at him, her eyes suddenly dimming in a manner that scared Ryou, Mint, and Zakuro. Pudding was never that serious, even in battle.  
  
"...No...I didn't.." She replied blankly, then suddenly fainted, almost in the broken glass had not Ryou caught her limp form in time.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"You're doing flu vaccinations for school age children here, right?"  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Oh, okay! Listen, my mother's in the restroom at the moment, and Dad's at work, so can we go ahead and get the shots? I don't want to hold up the line, and Mom...shouldn't be disturbed at the moment."  
  
"I guess, although we prefer to perform medical operations, even one this minor, under parental supervision."  
  
"Please? I really don't want to bother Mom. She's got...uh..stomach issues."  
  
"...do you have the release forms signed?"  
  
"Here they are, one for each of us."  
  
"Okay, but please have a parent or guardian present with you next time."  
  
"Okay."  
  
"That'll be a 500 yen charge for each vaccination, coming to...3000 yen."  
  
"3000 yen? Isn't that a bit expensive?"  
  
"Normally insurance would cover vaccinations...but yours doesn't provide coverage for minor medical issues."  
  
"Maybe your mother..."  
  
"No, I got it!"  
  
"3000 yen..."  
  
"How long will you be doing the shots?"  
  
"Until school starts."  
  
"I'll just the kids their shots, and come back later for mine."  
  
"Are you sure?"  
  
"Yes. It'll be fine. Mom didn't give me enough money, so we'll wait until tomorrow for mine."  
  
"The flu can be dangerous..."  
  
"I know that. I'll get it tomorrow."  
  
"That'll be 2500 yen."  
  
"Thank you."  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- -------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
"That's definitely the flu."  
  
Pudding wouldn't have given up a blood sample willingly, Keiichiro knew, so he was glad that Ryou had brought the girl to him while she was out cold. It made it much easier to run the tests to determine exactly what was wrong with her, although Ryou had no doubt as to what it was.  
  
"I thought so." Ryou sighed, running a hand through his hair--one of his expressions of worry that Keiichiro had noticed over the years. "Why didn't she get the shot along with everyone else?"  
  
"Maybe her parents couldn't afford it." Keiichiro offered, placing the cold compress on Pudding's forehead. The girl didn't just have a fever; she was burning up at 103.5, which was pretty high even for influenza.  
  
"Even so, not getting your own child vaccinated against a dangerous disease is pretty irresponsible."  
  
"You don't know the entire situation, Ryou."  
  
Ryou snorted, and Keiichiro knew to back off. It took a lot to make Ryou angry, but anything considered a crime against the five girls that had become their responsibility did it quite easily, even more so than laboratory failures; Keiichiro had cleaned up enough broken test tubes to know that Ryou didn't handle that sort of thing well. "Which strain is it? The normal one?"  
  
Keiichiro's silence was all the answer he needed. "How long is she going to be out of commission?"  
  
"I'm sure the other girls can handle any--"  
  
"I wasn't asking about that."  
  
"A couple of weeks, provided she gets proper bed rest. Since it's a virus there isn't really much that can be done about it. It has to wear off."  
  
"Mm..." Pudding's brow wrinkled, her golden eyes opening slowly. "...what happened?"  
  
"You fainted." Ryou replied, somewhat worried at the change in the normally bouncy, hyper little girl.  
  
Pudding opened her mouth to ask the question that Ryou had already anticipated; he continued before she could be predictable. "You have the flu, Pudding. A bad strain of it, and the only way you're going to get better is if you go home and stay in bed for awhile. Don't worry about work, and we'll only call you if we need you."  
  
Pudding's face fell. "You're firing me?"  
  
"I didn't say that!"  
  
"But how will I get paid if I don't work??" Pudding whined. "I'm fine!! I'm just tired!! I can work, see?"  
  
"No!!" Ryou blocked her exit from the bed, visions of the entire lab beneath the cafe in the same state of chaos and disarray that plagued the upper level running through his mind. "You can't work with the flu! It's contagious!"  
  
"But everyone got the shot, right?"  
  
"It's not 100% accurate," Keiichiro interrupted, moving to stand beside Ryou. "Besides, if you don't rest so that you can recover you could become even more ill. We really need you to get well as soon as possible."  
  
"Because Mint and Ichigo and everybody needs me to fight?"  
  
"And because we'd all be too worried about you to function properly without you here." Keiichiro added kindly. Pudding fell silent, considering the situation. It was obviously one-sided; Ryou wasn't going to stand for her endangering anyone else, but that didn't mean she couldn't beg and plead her case some more.  
  
Ryou couldn't believe that the girl was actually contemplating continuing to work after the chaos she'd caused in her flu-induced stupor earlier that afternoon. The kid was more materialistic than he himself, and that was just plain sad. Sure, the girls did get paid a LOT, but when compared with their health...He knew there was only way to end the issue; not that it would be a major hassle, but there was the principle of the thing to consider.  
  
He didn't get long to consider it. Pudding's face had turned an interesting shade of green.  
  
"Keiichiro...get a trash can..."  
  
"...I think I have to..." Pudding didn't finish her sentence, finally losing it and retching into her blanket before Keiichiro could hand her the wastebasket.  
  
"Just consider it a paid vacation." Ryou sighed.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Pudding hastily gathered her belongings, ignoring how foggy her head felt. She was acutely embarrassed at having puked in Ryou in Keiichiro's lab, although they had been very nice about it, especially Ryou's promised that she would get paid the same rate even if she wasn't there. She sensed they weren't too happy with how she'd put the money before herself; but money was very important to her. They could understand, even if they knew why.  
  
She coughed again, much to her dismay. She wanted to believe that Keiichiro was wrong; she had entirely too much to do to be ill. At least she didn't have to worry about work.  
  
She placed the envelope holding her pay for that week into her backpack, resisting the urge to sniff the crisp bills inside. That reminded her--she had to go grocery shopping before she could head home to fix dinner.  
  
Swinging the bag onto her back, Pudding headed towards the exit, waving at the other girls. Ichigo, Mint, Lettuce, and Zakuro abandoned their posts, crowding around her.  
  
"Are you okay?"  
  
"We were so worried!"  
  
"I'm fine," Pudding lied, suppressing a chest-rattling cough. "I'm just tired, so Ryou's sending me home for today."  
  
"You don't look fine," Mint said sternly, giving her a look that made Pudding suspect that she knew the truth.  
  
"I'm fine!!" Pudding insisted. "I'm probably catching a cold, that's all!"  
  
"Oh. Do you need someone to walk you home?" Lettuce asked.  
  
Pudding paled. "No, I think I can make it myself. But thank you!!"  
  
She walked to the door, looking back with a smile on her face. "Do not fear, the _AMAZING_ Pudding will return shortly!!" she cried, walking dead into the door.  
  
Mint winced, looking up at Zakuro. "Is that supposed to be a good thing?"  
  
Zakuro shrugged.  
  
Ichigo watched as Pudding left. "I'm worried about her. Wasn't Ryou talking about the flu earlier? Didn't Pudding not get the shot?"  
  
Lettuce nodded in agreement. "I'm sure her mom and dad'll take care of her. She should be okay."  
  
Ichigo glanced at her retreating form. "I hope so." 


	2. Pain and Retribution

A.N.: Thank you for all your nice comments! Papi feels loved! (It took actual pathetic pleading to get anyone to read ToS...) I'm taking major liberties with this chapter, so be warned, and I'm pretty sure the manga and anime follow the same general storyline, but if not...according to the manga, Kish, Tart, and Pie are there on Earth to scout it out for the rest of their race, who were forced to flee when the planet had a brainfart and got entirely too chaotic to live on. Of, course, their new planet sucked and they were forced to live underground, so they're pissed off because no one's watching Captain Planet and screwing up their own homeworld. Justifiable, at any rate.  
  
Disclaimer: The Ferrets mentioned are monsters from the book 'Shade's Children', by Garth Nix, kinda like a snake with fur, claws, and really sharp teeth that live in holes and come out at night and snatch people. And, once again, I don't own Tokyo Mew Mew. Is anyone really going to try to sue me over this?

Tart was enjoying himself, more or less. At least he thought he was.  
  
From his perch within the cherry tree he could see where his minimal usage of mind control (the same method used to send Kirema animals into raging frenzies) on an unsuspecting pigeon had been successful--the poor bird lost itself, sending a splatter of white liquid best left unidentified onto the head of a beautiful woman peacefully reading her novel on the bench below.  
  
As could be suspected, the woman had run off screaming bloody murder, much to Tart's amusement (he loved causing trouble for humans, even on a small scale)...however, the almost immediate pilfering of the woman's belongings by a couple of unsavory individuals (punks, Pie would have called them) ruined the moment.  
  
Tart settled back among the branches, careful not to disturb the birds resting within the tree. "Stupid Ichigo. Stupid Mew Mews," he muttered idly. "Stupid humans." The young alien was still sore from his ill-fated argument with Kish, who'd somehow made him seem like a whiny idiot instead of even considering the fact that he could be right. He didn't understand how Kish could possibly feel anything other than hatred for the human race, a race of people who could destroy not only each other and their world, but themselves without even realizing how pathetically hypocritical they were.  
  
He closed his eyes against the tears as the memories of his childhood (albeit a difficult one) returned, memories he'd tried to block out because they hurt. His mother had often told him stories, most of them obviously hearsay, about the beautiful world they had once inhabited, a world flowing with rivers with crystal white water, not the dingy, dust-covered pools they were forced to sift water from, sparkling green grass instead of sand, endless horrid sand that got into everything, clothing, eyes, food stores...she'd always wished to sit in the cool green grass, beneath the pleasantly shining sun, and to just exist, to have the chance to be carefree. To let her spirit fly.  
  
And Tart had wanted nothing more than for her wish to come true, to see his mother as happy as she was when she was lost within her memories that she had never experienced, because no one who was alive remembered Earth. But they all dreamed of it.  
  
So when the offer had come, through one of his friends who had a multitude of connections (Pie, who was in actuality the eldest son of their appointed clan leader, who was distressed by the increasing amount of deaths from the rapidly worsening state of their planet, and strangely enough, one of Tart's few friends), Tart had jumped on it, in realization of the chance he suddenly had to fulfill his mother's dream.  
  
---------------------------------------------------------------------------- --------------  
  
"Mom!! Mom!!" Tart was overjoyed, so much that he could barely fly straight. As it was, he would have crashed dead into the poorly constructed door had his mother had not opened it and caught him in her arms.  
  
Sugar held her only child as tightly as her frail form would allow, silently breathing a sigh of relief that happiness was the reason behind his cries. So often these days children returned with Ferret bites, which were fatal, or stings from the other horrible creatures that plagued the desert world they'd been exiled to by Fate. And Fate was cruel, because sometimes children didn't come home at all, those who couldn't kick the Ferrets away; or maybe they were lucky, because the ones that did manage to escape died in great pain in their parents arms, taking their hearts with them. Mates went down that road more often than not, as well.  
  
Tart didn't seem interested in the embrace, struggling free. "Mom, guess what!!!" The young alien shouted, hovering at face level with his mother. Sugar smiled. Despite his intelligence level, which far exceeded others of his age, Tart still retained some of the youthful innocence that was becoming rare, even among those that were still almost babies, still able to find joy in small things. She suspected part of the reason Tart wasn't going down the same road as some of the others she'd known was because of Kish and Pie, who were both considerably older than him, but were technically his best friends and partners in crime. "I'll make an attempt if you lower your voice," she replied, and Tart rolled his eyes. Mothers always managed to scold you about SOMETHING, when they could find it.  
  
But he was too excited to be deterred, nearly floating up to the ceiling as he screamed, "I'M GOING TO EARTH, MOM!!" feeling as if his heart would burst before he even finished the sentence.  
  
Sugar's expression faded, and she sank to her knees, staring up at him blankly.  
  
"Mom?" Tart gently lowered himself on the ground beside her, worried at her reaction. He'd hoped she would be excited for him, do anything other than look sad as she did then. "Mom, what's wrong?"  
  
Sugar's voice was almost toneless, disbelieving. "How..."  
  
Tart beamed, placing a hand on her shoulder. "Pie's dad said that this planet's getting really bad and we won't be able to live here after awhile, so he was sending Pie back to Earth on this really cool ship that he's having built and Pie let us look at it even though it's supposed to be a secret, but..." he paused to take a breath, "...Pie didn't want to take his guards with him 'cause he doesn't like them and neither does Kish, but I think they're kinda cool and Pie asked his dad could he take someone else and his dad was kinda mad but he finally said okay...." another breath, "....and Pie picked me and Kish and we get to go back to Earth to see if it's okay to live on again, and then we get to bring back supplies so we can build a lot of other ships and come back and get everybody and WE'RE ALL GOING TO LIVE ON EARTH AGAIN!!"  
  
Sugar seemed to stare through him.  
  
Tart hugged her, continuing in his exuberant tone, seemingly unaware of the state of shock his mother was in. "We get to live on Earth, Mom, and you can sit in the grass and look at the water and there'll be the sun and the moon and the stars, and Kish and Pie'll be there, and everybody else, and..." The feeling of droplets of moisture on his forehead caused Tart to stop chattering and look up, and realized that Sugar was sobbing, a smile on her face despite the tears, one of the happiest he'd ever seen her wear.  
  
"What's wrong, Mom? Everything's going to be okay now. You don't have to cry anymore, Mom, I'll take care of everything, I promise, and then when I come back I'll get you and take you to Earth and then you can do what you always wanted to do!! It'll be okay."  
  
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And of course, because Fate was heartless, and because wishes didn't come true, despite what children were taught to believe, the day before Tart, Kish, and Pie left Sugar became one of those that didn't escape from the Ferrets.  
  
The only part that didn't cause Tart's already numb heart to ache even more was that he was glad that she didn't have to suffer through a bite while watching him with glassy eyes, realizing that she wouldn't be able to see him return triumphant. Realizing that she would never see him again, or Earth.  
  
The young alien had stopped attempting to hide his tears, which now flowed freely, his tiny body racked with sobs. And if that wasn't enough to shatter his soul, when they'd reached the planet, it was overrun with a race that was systematically destroying it acre by acre, with no appreciation for the fact that it could always be worse. Humans were like that, they had such easy lives, and they didn't care about those who didn't. He hated them, all of them, especially the Mew Mews, who were standing in the way of their simply eradicating the entire race. At first Tart had had doubts about whether it was right to kill an entire race of people, horrid ones, but still living things, people who breathed...but not for long. It was the law of the universe, kill or be killed, survive. They'd been forced to bend to that law.  
  
His mother had been forced to bend to that law.  
  
And so would the humans. They were standing in the way of their survival. And they had to go.  
  
Somehow, Kish had forgotten that, for a girl with rose-colored eyes and pink hair, for a girl that was standing in his way. For a stupid human girl.  
  
A surge of pure rage coursed through Tart, causing him to rise to the top of the cherry tree, scattering pink blossoms as he screamed, at the top of his lungs, no longer caring about being noticed, "I HATE YOU ALL!!"  
  
From the summit of the tree he could see the entire park, and he allowed his powers to run wild on any target possible, enjoying the scene of ensuing chaos as dogs turned on their owners, crowds of birds squawking and fluttering frantically over the 'kindly' elderly women feeding them, lovey dovey teenagers pursued by rampant squirrels.  
  
"This'll be on the 6 o'clock news tonight," Tart smirked, reminding himself to ask Kish to pick up whatever prominent radio waves he could from the Tokyo area so he could watch it and laugh. If he ever spoke to Kish again.  
  
He looked down at the birds watching him nervously from the tree branches, disturbed by his outburst. They didn't realize it, but they were going to make history. If Kish was too out-of-it to do what needed to be done about the Mew Mews, he would.  
  
You can't kill me, we're friends!! The thought of a cheery human girl with blonde hair that reminded him of sunbeams and bright eyes that didn't hate him for some reason entered his mind at that moment, but he pushed it away. Not without a struggle, of course, but Pudding was a human. Just like Ichigo. He had to hate her. That was the way things had to be.  
  
"You'll help me, won't you?" The crows to which the question was addressed didn't answer, but Tart was sure from the gleam in their ebony eyes that they were in agreement.

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I decided to end it there. We'll see Pudding again in the next chapter, and let the marshmallow fluff begin. I'm sorry for all the speculation, but, like I said, I read the manga, and we don't get much insight into Tart, Kish, and Pie's background. I'm only guessing from tiny hints that Pie is of a higher rank than Kish and Pie, because he does seem to be in charge (even though Kish gets all the screen time). And as for Tart's mother, the name was just blaringly obvious. Pudding's line is from the botched kidnapping escapade in Volume 5. Sorry if I got painfully depressing with this chapter. It'll be happy eventually, I promise.


	3. Priorities

A.N.: Sorry it's taken me so long to update!! Earlier this week I had dental surgery and currently have four gaping holes where my wisdom teeth were, so all my other attempts for both ToS and Denial were...absolute tripe. But I think I've got it. Eventually, given the length of Denial, people might start to wonder about the passage of time in the story. It's Saturday, Tart's fight with Kish was at around 10 in the morning, Pudding left the cafe at around 11:30, and Tart got pissed and genocidal at around 12. The significance of this will be apparent soon, I promise!! Thanks for continuing to read and review; you make poor drugged Papi feel a little better!! : )

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Normally, Pudding would have made a rather adorable scene, skipping along the sidewalk of one of Tokyo's busiest shopping districts, another carefree schoolgirl drifting blindly and innocently in her little sailor suit.  
  
She was grateful that her school was liberal enough to not require the horrid outfits. And she had too much on her mind to be bothered with anything as childish at the moment.  
  
Instead, she walked rather briskly, navigating the large crowd expertly on her way to the grocery store she frequented after learning that the manager didn't care one way or the other whether she had parental supervision or not.  
  
Inside her backpack was a white envelope containing the 2000 yen that Ryou paid her for providing Cafe Mew Mew with a sufficient amount of comedy relief; the envelope would have been a great deal less full had Ryou decided to subtract the damages her comedy relief resulted in from her weekly pay, but he wasn't that mean.  
  
She was also aware of how much under the weather she was feeling, her vision blurred, coughing fits that seemed to want to shake her entire being apart, and her throat hurt. She wasn't stupid, not in the least, and she knew good and darn well that she probably was catching a cold of some sort, maybe even the flu, as Ryou and Keiichiro had suspected--but that didn't mean that she had to acknowledge it. Anyway, there were more important things to do than brood over a sore throat.  
  
"...now let's see...Chancha likes lycees, but everyone else hates them, and Honcha, Heicha and Lucha will only eat buckwheat noodles, and only if they're stir-fried in peanut oil....so we need lycees, starfruit, milk, baking chocolate, white and wheat flour noodles...and all I have is a measly 2000 yen!" Pudding groaned, throwing her hands in the air dramatically and crying aloud with feigned misery, "How is a poor girl supposed to live and fulfill her dreams of stardom in such squalid conditions such as these??"  
  
Her outburst drew more than one interested stare, a few giggles, and several stern glares from a couple of adults....which is exactly what Pudding wanted.  
  
Smiling to herself, the little girl continued on her way, lost in her thoughts. It was extremely important that no investigations were made into her home life, almost to the point of obsessively shying away from any aspects of her life save her status as one of the Mew Mews. No one had really asked her about it yet, not even Ryou or Keiichiro; whenever they were together, the major topics of discussion were usually either Ichigo's tumultuous love life, or whatever new animal was running rampant in the streets of Tokyo ripping the fenders off cars. And Pudding wanted it to stay that way. Not that keeping secrets from your friends was a good idea, but at least it ensured that they stayed friends, and 4 and 5 year old promises remained secure.  
  
Money was short, as she'd told Chancha only a week earlier, the night of her rather ridiculous involvement in a badly formulated kidnapping plot. Money was short because there were bills, bills for a house that was just big enough for the six people who lived in it, for all the little items small children needed to be happy and healthy, for food...and it all added up, to the point where Dad's regular support checks and her income from the Cafe were barely able to cover them all. The family was okay, no one was ill (except herself), and that's all that Pudding cared about. Even if sacrifices had to be made, in regards to herself, she'd do it. She'd promised her mother, after all.  
  
Which is why she enjoyed the stage; any stage at all so much, even those she created. She craved the attention she received for her antics, which made her feel like so much more than a little kid forced into doing very-un- kidlike things on a daily basis. With the applause, with all eyes on her, not as a Mew Mew, or Pudding the surrogate mother, but plain Pudding, the pop idol/star gymnast/charming actress, Pudding could forget herself and become lost in the adoration of her fans. She could forget everything troubling her, and simply let her spirit soar, unchained. Not to mention that once she DID become a star, money would no longer be an issue for her or her siblings.  
  
Pudding didn't know what happened, what acted as a catalyst, but she suddenly found herself shaken from her reverie, hunched over in another violent coughing fit. It hurt down there, deep within her chest, as if her lungs were on fire with every cough. She was so very dizzy. Maybe Ryou had been right. Maybe she did need to---  
  
"No! Everyone's counting on me!" Pudding exclaimed, through gasps for air. She was in pain, she hurt a lot...but sometimes sacrifices had to be made, for everyone to be happy.  
  
Even if the sacrifice was herself.  
  
------------------------------------------------------------  
  
Despite all the bad hype surrounding them -- as harbingers of bad will, pets of witches, pests -- crows are actually very intelligent animals.  
  
So it's no wonder that instead of taking flight in alarm, at that strange moment, every single crow of a mature age within a 2-mile radius of a small park in Tokyo suddenly lifted its head simultaneously in response to a sound that seemed to be calling to them.  
  
The voice was seemingly warm and caring, like one of the two-legged, no- winged creatures with a kindly face doling out handfuls of bread...but it was also cold, cold and steely like the gaze of a hawk. It caused the pinfeathers along their wings to bristle in anticipation and anxiety. It spoke to them in a manner that they all understood perfectly, like a crow itself...except the birds were all aware that it was something much larger, of a concept unknown to them.  
  
Can you hear me?  
  
The crows all cawed in response, and the emotion radiating from the voice seemed elated. Good. You have to listen to me.  
  
The crows listened intently as the voice began to speak, of the same two- legged creatures that went blithely along with their lives in the streets below them. These creatures were bad, a destructive race that ruined everything their hands touched; they poisoned water, killed trees, and then even turned on each other. These creatures would eventually lead to their own deaths...but in the process, they would take the crows, and every other living, breathing thing with them.  
  
The crows were horrified, as images of humans committing various atrocities against them filled their minds. The sky was red with blood and shaded with ebony feathers as crows fell from the sky; nests were torn asunder, their young flung to the ground and their eggs shattered.  
  
The two-legged creatures walking along the ground no longer seemed harmless. They were murderers, every one of them, with their eye on the crows, waiting to strike.  
  
The voice suddenly became soothing. It won't have to come to that, though, if we act now. I can help you.  
  
The crows were tied to this voice, this voice that had lifted the curtain from their eyes and showed them the truth. They continued to listen.  
  
You must follow me, all of you. I will take you to a place where a great deal of these creatures can be found. And when you see them... the voice became maliciously cold again. ....don't hesitate to kill them. All of them.  
  
Almost as if they were one unit, every crow rose from its perch, forming a cloud of shimmering black wings and harsh caws. They flew as one toward the voice that would lead them to salvation. That would help protect them.  
  
Crows are very intelligent animals. Especially when it comes to self- preservation.  
  
------------------------------------------------  
  
Tart almost fell from the tree, exhausted from exertion. Never before had he attempted to control such a large area of animals, especially intelligent ones. He was surprised it had even worked.  
  
He was even more surprised it had worked so well; he'd sensed hundreds of crows, even some outside the park had listened. He'd riled them up, that was for certain.  
  
He had a nice surprise for the Mew Mews when they showed up, alright. Tart smirked, one of his fangs visible as he rose from the tree and headed for the streets of Tokyo, with his crows not far behind him.  
  
-------------------------------------------------  
  
"500 yen for half a pound of whiting?? This is sidewalk robbery!!" Pudding cried.  
  
The grocery attendant situated at the fish counter was not amused. He'd been waiting to go on break for well over 15 minutes, which was exactly how long the little girl with more quips that a seasoned comedian had been expecting the contents of the counter and throwing a miniature tantrum over the prices. "Don't you mean 'highway' robbery?" he asked dryly. Pudding glared at him. "What does a girl have to do to get ONE fish at a reasonable price in this city, go out and spear it herself?"  
  
The attendant resisted the urge to tell her to do just that and walk away, composing his resignation letter in his head. "These are reasonable prices, miss."  
  
"Miss?"  
  
"Will you just buy something, kid?"  
  
Pudding sighed. "I'll take the whiting."  
  
The attendant hastily wrapped the fish, nearly throwing it at her. Screw customer service, he thought wildly, tossing his hat on the ground and walking toward the fifth of sake he knew he'd hidden somewhere in the stockroom.  
  
Pudding watched him leave, shaking her head. She wondered whether she should introduce him to Zakuro next time around. They seemed to have a lot in common. "Fish...ketchup..." She wrinkled her nose in annoyance. She hadn't meant to but ketchup, hadn't wanted to waste the money, but she wasn't sure what Tart had done with the economy-sized ketchup bottle he'd taken from her the night he and Pie had kidnapped her. She was pretty sure that even if he still had it, she couldn't very well ask for it back, because he'd probably just chuck it at her out of spite.  
  
She had to smile inwardly at the thought. She wasn't sure why, but she liked Tart. Not only did he seem to be her age, if that was possible, but he was obviously the youngest of the trio of aliens, just like herself as the youngest (and also denounced as being 'the cute little girl', much to her chagrin) of the Mew Mews. She'd certainly flustered him, that was for sure; she had to stifle a giggle at how red his face had turned when she'd randomly glomped him. Pudding wasn't sure why he hadn't killed her, why her dumb 'Because we're friends!" line had worked, why he'd even bothered to save her...she also wasn't sure why she didn't hate him.  
  
But being a hostage hadn't been so bad. It had actually been quite fun.  
  
The thought of Tart reminded her of something, and Pudding headed toward the candy aisle. It was one of the childish wiles she allowed herself, although the sugar really wasn't good for what she was sure was her hyperactive side, enhanced by the golden lion tamarin DNA. For some reason too much candy caused her monkey side to go wild -- the incident with Ryou's window was proof of that. She reeled a bit as the room spun, then shook her head to clear it. 'I'm fine.'  
  
The candy aisle smelled wonderful, chocolate mixed with strawberry, all kinds of prettily wrapped sweets calling to her, and for a minute everything else fled Pudding's mind. She loved the flavored 'drop' candies, as well as any kind of chocolate...but she was here for one thing alone. She wasn't even sure she had the money for it, but it had been such a long time. There. Pudding picked up a small wrapped bag of white candies shaped like small stars. Star candies were her all-time favorite; the way they melted on your tongue was like eating one of the palely shining stars in the night sky, so much that she had once made a wish while eating one.  
  
It hadn't come true though, not yet, but Pudding remained hopeful.  
  
She glanced up at the clock fixture next to the aisle sign. It was going on 1:45. She wanted to get home and get a nap before she had to wake up and fix dinner. Maybe it would help her feel somewhat better.  
  
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The streets of downtown Tokyo were suddenly brought to a halt by a strange noise. Cars stopped, and people moving along the sidewalk turned to stare at what appeared to be a young boy, although his appearance no doubt gave his origin away, whose face had suddenly appeared on every monitor and TV screen visible.  
  
Tart smiled disarmingly. "Did you know that _Corvus corone_, the carrion crow that lives here in the Tokyo area, is notably one of the most intelligent birds in existence upon your planet?"  
  
The screens went blank simultaneously, and what seemed like the sound of a large crowd of birds cawing caused the confused people to shiver slightly. Pointless questions such as 'What's going on', 'Who was that?' filled the growing din, as citizens exited their cars to look up.  
  
Tart reappeared hovering above the crowd, his expression one of vengeance. "But you stupid humans wouldn't know that, would you? You're too busy killing a planet that shouldn't even be yours!!!" he shouted, hatred lacing his tone.  
  
A collective gasp went up from the crowd of people he was addressing as the crows became visible behind him, cawing aggressively.  
  
"But it all ends here!!" Tart cried triumphantly. "If you don't appreciate actually having a beautiful planet like this, I'll take it off your hands, free of charge!!" He disappeared, teleporting to a building top to watch as the crows swooped down.  
  
Here they are! Kill them!  
  
The crows obliged.  
  
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"Oh!!" Pudding addressed the girl at the checkout counter, who'd she befriended after an issue concerning her paying with a check with no parent in sight. "Hi, Arisu!!"  
  
Arisu lowered the magazine she wasn't supposed to be reading while on duty and smiled at Pudding. "Hey, runt. Did you bring cash this time?"  
  
"Yes, I did," Pudding replied, mock offendedly. Arisu grinned, tossing her blue and green dyed locks behind her. "Good, cause I'd hate to have to tell my boss off again."  
  
Pudding eyed her hair with interest. It looked like a combination of Mint and Lettuce's, although Mint's was darker. "Hey, Arisu. Do I have to dye my hair to be famous?"  
  
Arisu looked up from the item she was stuffing in the shopping bag. "I don't think so. Blonde's a cool color." She ran her fingers through her own hair. "Too preppy for ME, of course, but it's cute on you."  
  
"I don't want to be CUTE!! Cute and pop idol do not mix!"  
  
"Listen, runt, all pop idols are cute, and if you want to be a star you'll just have to embrace it!" She scanned the last item, the bag of candy, and tapped a button on the cash register. "There! That'll be...2100 yen."  
  
"2100??" Pudding looked at the bills in her hands in dismay. "Are you sure you didn't ring up anything twice?"  
  
Arisu gave her a look. "I've only been working here for 2 years of my sad existence. Of course I did."  
  
Pudding sadly looked over the purchases she'd made. She'd been hoping she wouldn't go over, but she'd pretty much known the truth before she'd made the action. She picked up the bag of star candies and handed them to Arisu. "Can I put this back?"  
  
Arisu set the candy on the cash register, removing the item from the total. "2000 yen total."  
  
Pudding handed over the money, smiling. "Too much sugar is bad on the figure, anyway!!"  
  
Arisu only shook her head slightly, remembering why she liked this kid. Unlike the other brats she'd seen dragged out of the store, screaming in disappointment at not getting their way; Pudding was different. She seemed much more in touch with her sense of priorities than most children, as if she were older somehow. And she always had a smile on her face.  
  
"Here, runt." Arisu handed Pudding her bags, discreetly dropping the bag of star candies in one of them. "It's on me."  
  
Pudding would've leaped for joy had she not been bogged down with grocery bags. "Thanks, Arisu!"  
  
"Anytime, kid."  
  
Pudding waved good-bye to the best of her abilities, then exited the store, her tongue prickling in anticipation of eating star candies while watching the moon after her siblings had turned in for the night. That was, if she wasn't too sick. Her head steadily pounded, and she sniffed again, hoping she wasn't developing a runny nose.  
  
And then she felt something. It wasn't from within, but more like something was calling her. "It can't be another Mew Aqua, can it?"  
  
It didn't feel like the purity of the Mew Aqua, more like someone was calling her. Someone needed her.  
  
Pudding sighed. "Don't they ever go on vacation?" she groaned, turning and heading for downtown Tokyo, which was only a few blocks away.  
  
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Tart was having a blast.  
  
The young alien perched on an illuminated skyscraper, just high enough to watch the scene of chaos unfolding below him. It reminded him of the time he, Kish, and Pie had gotten bored and managed to pick up a broadcast of an American film called 'The Birds'. Kish had found the movie hilarious; Pie had spent the entire duration of the film glaring at Kish and calling him a 'boor', whatever that was, and complaining about the bad lighting and how this 'Alfred Hitchcock' character must have been criminally insane. Tart had thought it was an interesting idea, though; to let the forces of nature do the work for them; to let Earth's creatures defend themselves.  
  
It wasn't as elaborate as 'The Birds', but he liked his movie better, although he did have to admit that he could've planned the set much more carefully. The streets were pretty narrow, and the small shops lining them were perfect places for pesky humans to hide, however, the crows had caused some minor injuries so far, and it was mainly the fear the humans were exhibiting that interested him. They'd asked for it, anyway.  
  
But what he wanted was for the Mew Mews to show up, because they were the real reason he'd started shooting his film in such a manner.  
  
Movement almost a block away caught his eye, and Tart looked down to see a single figure with golden hair heading toward the scene.  
  
"Stupid human. Shouldn't she be running the other...way..." Tart stopped, and looked more closely. "Oh, no."  
  
It was Pudding. And she was alone.  
  
He almost bit his tongue as he ground his teeth in sheer annoyance. "I come up with a better plan that Kish and Pie combined and that's all I get in return?? NO FAIR!!!! Doesn't anyone respect me anymore??"  
  
He vanished.  
  
---------------------------------------------  
  
Pudding heard the screams before she reached the scene, and the people running in the other direction told her exactly what was going on. She wondered where Ichigo and the others were.  
  
But the actual scene surprised her. It was much worse than a Kirema anima. Downtown Tokyo had come to a halt, as what seemed to be hundreds of crows had descended, lining the tops of buildings and signs while others attacked people unlucky enough to not have shelter.  
  
Pudding felt a flash of anger. How could they do something so horrible? She paused on the sidewalk, setting her bags down, knowing what she'd have to do. She looked down at the groceries in dismay. "What can I do?" she asked no one in particular, feeling alone. She suddenly had another coughing fit, her headache spiking.  
  
"Do not tell me that you're the only one that's coming." Tart appeared beside her, looking pretty annoyed.  
  
"Tart!!" Pudding glared at him. "Did you do this??"  
  
Tart didn't answer her question, raising his hand in an incomprehensible gesture, and Pudding shrieked as a vine intertwined around her ankle, causing her to fall backwards. "Where are the others? Where's that witch Ichigo??"  
  
Pudding grabbed the vine, which seemed to have a will of its own. "Let me go!!"  
  
"Not until you answer my question!!" Tart shouted. Pudding's cheerful demeanor had vanished, and he was aware that he'd finally managed to piss her off. "Where's the rest of the Tokyo Zoo Crew, monkey girl?"  
  
Pudding's response was to give him a look of defiance that almost caused him to crash. "Mew Pudding Metamorphosis!!" she shouted, and Tart recoiled in surprise as his vine unwrapped itself and seemed to shrivel.  
  
Pudding closed her eyes; she'd never quite gotten used to transforming as it was a rush of emotions, despite only taking a split second. Tart blinked as the little girl was seemingly enfolded in a wave of light, which faded almost instantly, leaving Pudding standing in front of him with the fur on her tail bristling. "You stop it right now, Tart!! Make them stop before they hurt someone!!"  
  
"That's the point, dummy!!" Tart yelled, desperately trying to resist the urge to blush. He would never allow himself to admit, but he liked Pudding best when she was belligerent, her golden eyes shimmering with anger. There was something about the determination in her tone that reminded him of himself when he'd made up his mind about something. Still, she was going to screw up his plans, or at least try to, and he hated her for it. He was sure he hated her. She was human. Right.  
  
He wasn't so sure when Pudding suddenly grabbed his hand, her eyes sad. "I don't want to fight you, Tart, so please stop them! I know you don't want to hurt anyone."  
  
"Pudding..." Tart had never felt as unsure of himself as he looked down at her. Why couldn't she hate him? Why did she have to make things so hard?  
  
Human. She was human. He had to hate her. He had to.  
  
Even if it did hurt so very much.  
  
He snatched his hand away angrily. "You never answered my question."  
  
Pudding bristled, although she felt as if her heart was breaking. "It doesn't matter because I'm more than enough to take you on!"  
  
"So you're going to try to stop me by yourself?"  
  
"If I have to."  
  
"Fine." Tart gave her a malevolent smile, allowing both fangs to show. "If you want to save them so badly, monkey girl, go right ahead. Have fun with the birdies, Pudding!!" he called condescendingly, disappearing and leaving Pudding alone on the sidewalk.  
  
Pudding looked at the spot where he'd been hovering, and then down at her groceries. There were so many decisions. Too many. And most of them made her want to cry.  
  
But she knew what she had to do. She always did.  
  
"Pudding is on her way!!" she cried, stumbling a bit as a wave of dizziness washed over her, then running down the sidewalk towards the crows.  
  
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Tart reappeared where she'd stood after she was gone. He couldn't understand why she was doing this, without the other Mew Mews. He wasn't sure why they hadn't shown up.  
  
Or why Pudding had tried to reason with him.  
  
Why she didn't just attack him on sight.  
  
Why he'd hesitated.  
  
Tart hovered silently, confused over so many things...and then looked down at the bags she'd left sitting on the sidewalk.  
  
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A.N.: Long one! Tell me if my skills are still up to par, and remember, I'm still pretty much morphined-up, so be nice! Chapter 4's not far behind!


	4. Mistakes

Pudding reached the chaotic scene in record time, panting uncharacteristically. Such a short run shouldn't have tired her out, but given the circumstances everything was a strain.  
  
"Never fear, Mew Pudding's here!!" she cried cheerfully, beginning to feel the excitement that came with transforming. It was an exhilarating experience, whatever happened; it seemed like her adrenaline level heightened. She didn't even feel that sick anymore.  
  
Someone bowled her over in their mad dash to escape a crow seemingly bent on systematically ripping every strand of their hair out. Pudding scrambled up, shaking her tiny fist angrily. "Hey, don't wipe me out! I'm here to save the day!!"  
  
No one seemed to hear her. Pudding felt a surge of jealousy. No one would have ignored Ichigo. She sighed. There were more important things, once again.  
  
Producing her rings, Pudding sized up the situation. There were entirely too many crows to take care of them all in one go, which wouldn't have been the case had the other girls been there; however, they weren't, so she was going to have to make do until they arrived.  
  
"Hey, you crazy buzzards!!" she called to a group of crows ravaging a carful of cringing people, "Someone paid good money for that car, and money's hard to come by!!" She tossed her rings at the crows, calling, "Pudding Ring Inferno!!"  
  
The rings surrounded the crows, washing them in pink light.  
  
"That should do it!!" Pudding cried, as her rings returned to her hand, stifling a cough. No time for that.  
  
And then something strange happened.  
  
The crows stopped vandalizing the car, settling on its hood to stare at Pudding with their beady eyes.  
  
Pudding felt a cold shiver run down her spine. There was something unnerving about the manner in which they were regarding her. "Um...you crows are back to normal again, right?" She took a cautious step backwards, tripping on her tail.  
  
The crows continued to stare at her, and then one let out a loud, harsh- sounding caw that echoed off the walls of the buildings, followed by another. The other crows slowly stopped, settling on buildings and cars, staring directly at Pudding. The area had fallen silent, except for the people taking advantage of the cessation of the crows attack and running for their lives, crowding in stores and cars.  
  
The birds were silent, watching Pudding, who was beginning to feel very, very afraid. "...so...I'm guessing everybody's back to normal, now, right? Yay for Pudding!! ...or not?"  
  
Pudding wasn't stupid, not in the least.  
  
"AUGGH!!!" she screamed, turning on her tail and dashing in the other direction down the street, and, as she predicted, the entire crowd of crows began to follow her.  
  
They were not appreciative of her efforts; in fact, they'd only seemed to piss them off even more.  
  
----------------------------------------  
  
Tart had returned to his perch to simultaneously sulk and worry. He was not at all pleased about the reception of his idea...and he was even more aggravated about the obvious outcome.  
  
What he hadn't told Pudding was that her attacks were not going to work at all.  
  
Had she been facing a Kirema anima, the injection of DNA would have driven out the parasites used to create Kiremas immediately.  
  
He hoped she was smart enough not to attack more than once. He hadn't planned on aborting his mission; wasn't even sure it was possible...but for some reason the thought was on his mind, ever since she'd grabbed his hand.  
  
He'd wanted to kill the Mew Mews when he began, had been so driven by hatred that he hadn't even considered that he might change his mind. Maybe he could reason with the crows, tell them he'd made a mistake, that not all humans were bad...but they were, weren't they? Didn't they deserve to die?  
  
Maybe they did...but he didn't want to say good-bye to Pudding, just yet. She was interesting. Maybe he didn't hate her that much.  
  
But he was supposed to.  
  
But he didn't.  
  
Tart groaned, hanging his head. He was so unsure of himself. He suddenly realized that the noise below had ceased. Looking down, he realized the street was deserted, except for a few people standing around in shock. Pudding was nowhere to be seen, and neither were the crows.  
  
"Pudding!!" he cried, tossing every other thought aside except her and taking off.  
  
-------------------------------------  
  
Pudding was literally running for her life.  
  
One crow had already snatched a beakful of fur from her tail, causing her to shriek more like a tamarin than she'd ever managed and increase her pace.  
  
"Don't kill me, I'm here to save everyone!! ICHIGO!!!" she screamed, now afraid. Never had an animal turned on her after she'd used her attack-- normally they were either unresponsive or grateful. These crows wanted to kill her, for some reason. She knew it, from the look in their eyes and the way they cawing at her. She wished Ichigo would show up, because Ichigo's attacks always worked. Because Ichigo could save her, could stop the pain in her chest and her pounding headache. Ichigo always saved everyone.  
  
"Ichigo!!" she cried again, almost tearfully, wondering for a split second whether her friends had deserted her.  
  
A crow managed to get close enough to rip another plug out of her tail, and Pudding shrieked again. "I'm too young and talented to die!!!"  
  
All inhibitions aside, Pudding dropped to all fours, clambering over a parked car (which immediately began to scream in protest) and up a fire escape, taking the stairs two at a time. Maybe there was shelter on the roof. The crows were still on her tail, pecking whenever they got the chance. "Ichigo, Mint, Lettuce, anybody HELP!!!"  
  
Her throat hurt even worse every time she called, and by the time Pudding reached the roof she was so tired she was aware that she was slowing down. Her chest was on fire, so was her head, and she was breathing so heavily.  
  
There was something that looked like a shed only a few feet away, but her legs had turned to jelly.  
  
Pudding sank to her knees, her vision growing dim. She shivered in spite of herself, barely aware of the crows beating their wings about her head.  
  
"...bye everybody...I'm sorry..." she whispered, as her world darkened completely.  
  
------------------------------  
  
The crows all cawed simultaneously in elation as the object of their intense hatred collapsed only a few feet in front of them, no longer moving and completely vulnerable to their attack.  
  
Something had happened when Pudding had attacked them, something unexpected. Instead of abandoning their murderous crusade, the flash of DNA had simply strengthened their resolve to protect themselves, heightened their sense of preservation -- and they sensed that the new human that had arrived posed a greater threat than the ones running and screaming in such an inane manner. They had to protect themselves, the voice had told them.  
  
And the only way to accomplish that was to remove any threats from the equation, and currently the most dangerous of them was Pudding.  
  
The little girl didn't respond as one of the faster crows landed atop her midsection, ripping a gash in her tail with its cruel-looking talons. It cawed triumphantly, raising it's beak above her small chest and moving in for the kill...  
  
...and squawking in consternation and surprise as something hard slammed into it, knocking it from its perch atop its prey.  
  
Tart stood in front of Pudding's comatose form, brandishing his knife dangerously and baring his fangs.  
  
NO!!  
  
The crows paused, surprised at hearing the voice that had aided them in the beginning. It looked almost as if it could be human; the crows were stunned.  
  
You can't kill this human, she's not bad like the others!!  
  
Tart's mouth dropped open as a voice...no, what seemed like hundreds of voices in unison responded -- he hadn't expected the crows to be able to communicate with him in turn, especially for the entire crowd of birds to be connected in such a similar mindset.  
  
( all humans are the enemy )  
  
No, I was wrong! She's human but she's different!  
  
( in what manner? why does this human not pose as great a threat as the rest? why should we spare her life? )  
  
Tart was silent, unable to answer. He hadn't expected anything like this to happen.  
  
Because she's...she's just different!  
  
( explain )  
  
I can't!  
  
( this human poses a threat to ourselves and our young, and must be destroyed. if you are truly our savior you will surrender this human so that she may be terminated. )  
  
I...I won't.  
  
( why? are you abandoning us? )  
  
No, it's just... you can't kill her, because she's special to me! I can't explain, just...  
  
The emotion radiating from the crows began to scare Tart, more than anything on his planet ever had.  
  
( traitor. )  
  
No, I'm not!  
  
( all humans...and those that protect them...must be destroyed. )  
  
Tart managed to grab Pudding teleport to the shed she'd set her sights on just as the crows descended on him.  
  
-------------------------------------  
  
"Mm..." Pudding moaned, shivering. Her entire body hurt, especially her tail and her head. Something warm brushed against her forehead; she was lying on something soft, like a warm pillow. Pudding snuggled against it, nuzzling her sore cheek against its touch. "If the service is this good in heaven maybe being dead isn't that bad after all. I hope I didn't leave the gas on."  
  
Someone snorted in derision; Pudding would have rolled her eyes had she felt like opening them. "Oh, shut up. I just got eaten by a flock of crows with gratitude issues. I deserve the star treatment. I hate birds..."  
  
"Not as much as if they'd actually killed you, monkey girl."  
  
Pudding recognized the voice immediately, hugging her pillow. It really was shaped oddly. "Oh, Tart, they killed you too? Makes sense, considering you started this in the first place."  
  
She suddenly opened her eyes, annoyed. "Why are you here, anyway? Shouldn't you be in--"  
  
Tart decided the conversation had headed as far as he cared to venture. "We're not dead, stupid."  
  
Pudding blinked, then beamed. "Oh, really? That rocks!!" She paused. "So where are we?"  
  
Tart didn't answer. Pudding sat up, slowly registering her surroundings. They were in the small shed she'd been heading for before she passed out.  
  
And she was lying in Tart's lap with her head against his chest and her arms wrapped around his midsection.  
  
Tart looked skyward, his voice funny. "Since you're not too dead to run off at the you please get off me?"  
  
Pudding was only too quick to oblige, nearly tripping over her tail as she scrambled out of his lap, turning away. Had she been brave enough to look back at him she'd have noticed that his cheeks were just as flushed as her own.  
  
"Sorry about that.." she said quietly.  
  
"Oh, don't worry about it." Tart's voice was laced with something unidentifiable. "Even though I'd be much happier if you were dead."  
  
"Then why'd you save me? You did, didn't you?"  
  
"...shut up."  
  
Pudding felt a sharp pang in her tail and reached back to touch the tip gingerly; touching it caused it to hurt even worse, and her fingers came back reddened with what could only be blood. "They got me."  
  
Tart glanced over at her. "Too bad you're not a goner." He sighed in defeat, standing up and walking over where she sat, his face reflecting an annoyance that his tone gave the lie to. "Let me see."  
  
Pudding yanked her tail away protectively, instantly regretting the action. "You're going to cut it off, aren't you?" She thought better of it, then released it, shutting her eyes and crying dramatically, "If you must amputate it please be quick about it and don't force me to suffer in pain any longer than necessary!! It's a great service you render to a wretch such as myself!!"  
  
Tart paused, confused. "You want me to cut your tail off? Not that I won't do it, because I really don't like you, but.."  
  
"Not really...but that sounded really cool, didn't it?"  
  
"Unbelievable." Tart shook his head in disbelief, leaning down to inspect Pudding's tail. "We're going to die really soon, and she's auditioning for the 'Idiot of the Year' award. Monkey girl, you're so weird you scare even me."  
  
Pudding's tail looked more like a candy cane than anything -- the crows had savaged it in the worst manner, leaving areas bare of the soft fur that had once covered it, and several jagged gashes ran down it's length. None of the wounds were bleeding that badly, but Tart surprisingly didn't enjoy watching Pudding grimace in pain. "Hold still, and if you tell ANYONE I swear I'll strangle you with one of those stupid rings you wave around, " he hissed, and Pudding flinched as Tart seemingly seized the tip of her tail, squeezing it rather roughly. "Ouch!!" she cried; the contact sent a flash of unbearable pain up her injured tail, running to the base of her spine...and fading almost as instantly as it came, taking all the pain with it.  
  
Tart swiftly drew back, and Pudding swished her tail back and forth excitedly. "You fixed it!!"  
  
Tart refused to look in her direction, sullen. "I should have hacked it off when I had the chance," he muttered darkly. He was not enjoying himself in the least; not only was Pudding's presence having an effect on him that he didn't like, but he was finding himself DOING stupid things -- such as healing her tail, which he didn't have to do.  
  
But it had made her happy.  
  
Tart groaned, wanting to bang his head against the wall. Why did he care about her being happy? Why had he even saved her in the first place? When she'd asked the question he'd snapped at her because he really didn't have a reason. He had a possible explanation, but it was simultaneously impossible as it went against everything he was supposed to believe. Kish had said he was in denial -- Tart wanted to believe that he hated her, more than anyone...but his actions were proving that even if his mind was denying what his heart felt, his heart was in control for the moment, and it was making a fool of him.  
  
Maybe he didn't hate Pudding, after all.  
  
He became even more uncomfortable when Pudding turned to him, smiling brilliantly and hugged him tightly. "Thank you, Tar Tar!! You're so nice!!"  
  
"No, I'm not!!" Tart shrieked, shoving her away (he wished he could have done it more forcefully). "I'm not nice, and I don't like you!! I hate you!!"  
  
Pudding grinned. "Then why'd you save me this time?"  
  
"Because I wanted the satisfaction of killing you myself, not those stupid crows!!"  
  
"Oh.." The mention of the crows reminded Pudding of the predicament she'd been in. "Did you tell them to go away? Is everything back to normal?"  
  
Tart pointed to the entrance of the shed, which was covered with a mesh of vines that he'd obviously placed there as a barrier. "Does it look like it?"  
  
"Why don't you tell them to go away so we can go home?"  
  
Tart looked at the ground. "Because they won't listen to me anymore."  
  
Pudding looked dismayed. "Why? And why didn't my attack work? Why'd it make them mad?"  
  
"Don't ask more than one question at once. You might get confused."  
  
"Why??"  
  
"Because..." Tart trailed off, his face falling, "...because they're not Kirema animas. They're just regular crows."  
  
"Oh." Pudding was silent for a second, then began to laugh. Tart raised an eyebrow, wondering if she was finally losing what little bit of a mind she had. "Why is this amusing?"  
  
Pudding felt as if she was going to cry with relief. "I thought Ichigo and everybody had abandoned me, but they didn't come because Ryou only knows if it's a Kirema anima! So they didn't leave me alone after all!"  
  
"Is that why they didn't show up?" Tart ground his teeth, suddenly annoyed again. His perfect plan was really beginning to suck. Not only did it not work, but it was really backfiring in a bad way.  
  
Pudding nodded. "Ryou's computers tell us when a Kirema anima attacks, but when it's a normal animal...I guess we're on our own. But what made the crows want to hurt everyone?"  
  
Tart snorted. "Hurt everyone? They wanted to kill everyone, and when you showed up with your little attack it only made them want to kill everyone more, especially you, 'cause they really hate you."  
  
"But why? We didn't do anything to them!" Pudding looked hurt, and Tart wondered how much of a blow this was to her sense of innocence. "Why are they so mad at us?"  
  
Tart looked away. "Because I told them that you...not you, personally, but humans in general were dangerous to them. And they want to protect themselves."  
  
Pudding's tail unfurled as she sat down, considering the enormity of the situation. "You told them we were ALL bad? But not all humans are bad, and even the ones that aren't don't deserve to die!"  
  
"That's a matter of personal opinion." Tart replied crisply, his tone indicating that he didn't entirely agree with the statement.  
  
Pudding sighed. "If all humans are so terrible then why'd you bother to save me?"  
  
"I already told you..."  
  
"But you haven't killed me yet!" Pudding protested, dimly registering that the conversation had taken a very strange turn.  
  
"Because I don't feel like it today." Tart levitated himself to hover just above her head, staring down with an expression of boredom.  
  
Tart was a really bad liar, and Pudding knew it; but now was not the time to deal with nonsensical crushes...not while Tokyo was being terrorized by a flock of stand-ins for the avian cast of 'The Birds'.  
  
"Then tell them you were wrong so they'll stop trying to kill everyone!!"  
  
At that point Tart began to laugh, sounding nearly hysterical, and leaving Pudding to wonder whether he was the crazy one. "They're not trying to kill anyone anymore."  
  
"Then why the heck are we here?" Pudding was becoming annoyed. She felt even sicker than before, and despite her gratitude Tart was responsible for the entire escapade in the first place.  
  
Tart smirked. "Because now the only two people they want to kill are me and you."  
  
"What did you do to make them mad at you?"  
  
"Oh, I just saved an excessively annoying little monkey girl that talks too much."  
  
At any other time, on any other day when she wasn't hen/crow-pecked and suffering from the flu in the worst possible way, Pudding wouldn't have made such a stupid statement. Thankfully she caught herself. "Who? Wait a minute, I don't talk too much!!"  
  
"You make Kish seem like he's mute. And you're annoying. And did I mention that I hate you?" Tart replied, offhandedly. "At any rate, they think I'm a traitor now, and I'd leave you here and go back to the ship except I can't teleport here...so we're both stuck in this shed until they get bored and leave, which is highly unlikely, or until you annoy me into killing myself, or I get annoyed and kill you."  
  
"Or Ichigo and the others come and attack the crows in an attempt to save you, which would only make them angrier." Tart pointed out.  
  
Pudding glared at him. "This is all your fault."  
  
"No, it's yours for interfering in the first place."  
  
"I wasn't going to let you hurt people just because you hate humans!"  
  
"They deserve it!!" Tart hissed. "You're so stupid it's offensive, monkey girl. What have any of those people ever done for you? Why do they deserve to have you sacrifice yourself for them?"  
  
Pudding's eyes were downcast and sad as she stared up at him. She did like him, she did...but she absolutely could not fathom how he could hold so much hatred for people he'd seemingly never even met before. And to try to kill them, too...Pudding squeezed her eyes shut, her heart panging with confusion and anger, both at Tart and herself for continuing to feel anything at all for him. It didn't make sense. "Because they're alive, and anything that's alive has the right to live." She shot him an angry glare, stalking over to a corner and turning her back on him. "And you're really MEAN to try to take that away when you don't even have a reason to!! I hate you, too!"  
  
Tart was stunned. He'd never seen Pudding so pissed off before. He'd never even heard her use the word 'hate' on an inanimate object, much less himself. It wasn't a terribly satisfying feeling. "Well fine!! It doesn't matter because I hate you more!"  
  
"Shut up!"  
  
"Take your own advice! You're the one who can't put a sock in it!"  
  
"I'm not speaking to you."  
  
"That's the best news I've heard since we got to this stupid planet!"  
  
They sat in silence, the soft swish of Pudding's tail the only sound as Tart balked at having been challenged and Pudding pondered how they were going to get out of this one. The odds weren't good, not in the least.  
  
Pudding placed a hand against her forehead experimentally; the argument hadn't done anything for her headache. She didn't feel any warmer...at least from her perspective. At any rate her current situation probably wasn't good for whatever illness she was developing. She suddenly leaned over, caught in the throes of another coughing fit; it felt like her lungs were filled with water, as if she were drowning...and almost choked in surprise at the soft touch of a hand on her back. Pudding looked up at Tart in surprise.  
  
"Um..." Tart seemed embarrassed, looking away from her as he spoke. "Are you okay?"  
  
Pudding nodded, wiping the moisture from her eyes. "I just have a cold. I think." She doubled over again as the pain in her head spiked, reflexively wrapping her tail around her stomach. "I don't know...." she moaned, whimpering slightly. She'd never felt so horrible in her life, not even after a battle; she wanted to cry even more when she considered the fact that she had no idea how to handle the problem of hundreds of crows standing sentinel outside her makeshift prison.  
  
And who would take care of her sisters and brothers if she couldn't?  
  
That thought was the straw that broke through Pudding's normally cheerful demeanor, and then she did cry, because she was no longer in control...and that scared her more than anything Tart, Kish, and Pie could dream up.  
  
Tart lowered himself onto the ground next to her, feeling immensely guilty once again. He'd never meant for any of it to happen in the manner that it did. Not to mention that seeing Pudding so distraught over something he'd done didn't make him happy, as he'd thought it would...it bothered him, knowing he'd hurt her enough to actually make her cry. And he had no explanation for what compelled him, at that moment, to lean over and wrap his arms around the sobbing girl, pulling her into what he hoped was a comforting embrace. She was amazingly warm, her hair tickling his skin and making him want to sneeze.  
  
And, holding the girl he hated in his arms, Tart allowed himself to admit one thing he'd always known but wouldn't accept as the truth.  
  
He didn't really hate Pudding at all.

  
  
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ------------------ -------------------------------------------------------...that ended on a semi-depressing/sweet note. Strange combination. Don't worry, it gets better for everybody (including the crows!) really soon! Sorry P-chan seems a bit OOC, but it's hard to imagine a character remaining perky in such a situation (the flu really sucks, in a really bad way.) Also, some might think that her cheerful/hyper demeanor is due to her golden lion tamarin DNA; having worked without pay at the zoo for five years helping train the same animals, they do have their depressive moods and express when they're feeling under the weather in an extremely human manner...and believe me, it's not pretty. So Papi isn't really OOC after all! ::yay::


	5. Repairs and Revelations

A.N.: Pudding's flu dilemna hasn't popped up majorly for awhile, but for all the anal people screaming, "Argh, plothole!", yes, she still is sick, and the visible effect is her stamina. We manga-readers know that P-chan makes the energizer bunny look like a middle-aged couch potato, don't we? And, yes, I know that one cannot fight hordes of birds why suffering from influenza without showing some signs of fatigue, or at least puking over a fire escape...these lovely things come later. : )

-

-

Pudding's exuberant personality wouldn't allow her to stay too depressed for long; much to Tart's surprise, within ten minutes of her breakdown the little girl let out a shuddering sigh, giving a few final sniffs and then shifting to rub her eyes.

Tart watched her warily, still not sure of how to react to her sudden shift in attitude. Kish would've known how to behave around a girl seemingly in distress, he thought, sighing inwardly. "Are you okay now?"

Pudding sat up, brushing her hair from her face distractedly. "Yes, I think so." She smiled at him, obviously having either forgotten or disregarded their earlier argument, and stood up, striking a gallant pose. "It is a far, far better thing we do now than we have ever done before...besides that time you guys put that cocoon on top of that skyscraper and almost killed everybody again, 'cause that was pretty darn annoying..."

"What are you going on about now?"

"Our sacrificing ourselves for the good of humanity, duh!!" Pudding leaned down to grasp his hand, her eyes shining patriotically; while Tart was used to her strange tangents, they never ceased to disturb him. "We're going down with the ship, Tar Tar!!"

"Stop...oh never mind." Tart snatched his hand away again, eying her in semi-confusion. "So you're okay with us becoming bird chow, are you?"

"Well, it's not like there's any other way out of here. I could sing to them, I guess..."

"They wouldn't appreciate it, I can assure you."

"So if my talented acting and crowd-pleasing skills won't work, and they won't listen to you, we're just doomed, right? I've never been doomed before." For someone who'd just accepted their sealed fate, Pudding strangely didn't seem too depressed about it. She was actually smiling brilliantly as she said it, emphasizing the word 'doom'...it was a very worrying moment for Tart.

He raised an eyebrow. "It's not fun to be doomed, Pudding. This is not another exciting adventure. We're going to die hideous deaths."

Pudding sighed, nodding in agreement. "True...but at least I have a friend to starve with!!" The thought of food reminded her of something, and she groaned in aggravation. "Oh, shoot!! That was my last paycheck for awhile! Now we really are going to starve!"

"Did you lose something?" Tart mentally kicked himself for once again behaving in such a kindly manner towards someone he was supposed to dislike. Pudding looked over at him. "Yeah, but..."

Tart waved his hand again, and Pudding gasped in surprise as the bags of groceries she'd left sitting on the sidewalk appeared on the ground beside her. "You saved my stuff! Thank you!! But why? I thought you hated me?"

Tart rolled his eyes. "I do...but if you starve to death I can't kill you later, now can I?"

"So you're helping me so you can kill me later?" Pudding looked confused. "That's really wierd, Tar Tar."

"Not as wierd as you are."

Pudding rummaged through her bags, noting with some consternation that the lettuce was beginning to wilt. "Maybe if we feed them they'll go away."

Tart considered the idea for a second, then remembered the single-minded coldness the crows had exhibited toward him. "I don't think so. They're too angry to think about anything else other than killing us."

"Oh. That's sad." Pudding suddenly sighted her bag of star candies, and cheered. "YES!! Maybe the crime rate in downtown Tokyo's not that bad after all!!" She retrieved the small bag, seemingly having forgotten Tart's presence. She didn't see how, but maybe a dose of sugar would improve the situation a bit.

Tart watched in interest as Pudding seated herself gingerly, pushing the other grocery bags to the side and placing the bag of candy in her lap, humming to herself. "What are those?" he asked in spite of his determination not to speak to her unless it was absolutely necessary.

Pudding looked up at him. "Oh, these?" She unwrapped the bag of candy, carefully removing a single white star and placing it in his hand. "They're star candies. They taste kinda like rock candy, but they're soft enough to melt on your tongue. See?"

She placed a piece of candy on her tongue, closing her eyes and sighing at the sweet taste of sugar. Even when she was sick candy still had the same effect on her. Tart made sure she'd eaten hers first, somewhat afraid that she might have a hidden vindictive streak. He didn't really believe she'd attempt to poison him...but, as he'd learned, when one was in the profession Kish, Pie, and himself were apparently making a sad career out of, it paid to be cautious. Pudding swallowed, then smiled encouragingly at him. "Try it, it's good! It won't kill you."

Tart popped the piece of candy in his mouth...and instantly shivered slightly, blinking. "That...is really sweet."

Pudding grinned. "Told you you'd like it." She handed him another one, and Tart sat down beside her to eat it, completely disregarding the fact that she was supposedly his enemy and his aspirations toward killing her. He'd never tasted anything sweet before Kish, Pie, and himself had descended on Earth, and he was secretly grateful to Pudding for having introduced him to the joys of candy. Sure, he'd gotten in trouble for having sneaked out while under lockdown to hit up various candy and convenience stores, but the sugar rush made it all worthwhile. They passed the rapidly diminishing bag of candy back and forth until there were only two pieces left. Tart started to wolf his piece down as he had the others, rather regretfully, but Pudding hesitated. "Wait a second. I used to do this when I was little. You close your eyes, like this..." She closed her eyes, peeking at Tart. "Come on, you have to do it right or it won't work!"

"This is stupid," Tart commented, squeezing his eyes shut.

"Then you put the candy in your mouth...but you can't eat it just yet." Tart did as she directed, the taste of the candy spreading over his tongue.

"Then what?"

"You make a wish, something you want the most...and then you eat it." Pudding opened her eyes, holding up the empty candy bag. "Did you do it?"

Tart nodded. "What did you wish for?"

Pudding blushed. "It's kinda stupid..."

"Not as stupid as mine was."

"What did you wish for?"

"I asked first, monkey girl!"

"Oh, alright." Pudding looked away. "I wished...that I could be strong enough to protect everybody."

Tart leaned back, allowing himself to relax after the madness he'd experienced throughout the course of the day. "That's not stupid. It makes sense to me."

"And you?"

"I wished...that there was some way we could get out of here." He chuckled to himself ruefully. "I guess I'm not that thrilled by the idea of being eaten by a bunch of crows."

Pudding suddenly stood up, her tail erect with excitement. She looked down at Tart, her eyes shining. "Maybe we're not doomed after all."

"What if we...I mean me and Ichigo and talk to the crows? Maybe we could calm them down."

"I don't know..." Tart trailed off, lost in thought. He didn't see how anything the Mew Mews could say could placate those maddened birds, even if it were possible to communicate with them. "Didn't you say Ichigo wouldn't show up since it's not a Kirema anima?"

"If I could make it to a building where there's a phone I could call them and tell them where we are, and I'm sure Ryou can figure out a way to let us talk to the crows."

'Who's this Ryou guy?"

"Our friend." Even in their current state, Pudding didn't think it was too wise to divulge too much information about themselves. "He's really smart."

"Oh."

"Even if it doesn't work, Tar Tar...it's still worth a shot, right?"

Tart had to agree with her, albeit grudgingly. "And just where do we find a phone?"

"We find a building with an elevator on the roof, duh! Then we can go down and use somebody's phone!"

"And they're just going to let a genetic experimentation reject and an alien into their apartment to make a phone call."

"Tar Tar, you're a pessi...a pess..."

"A pessimist?"

"Yeah, that."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Despite Pudding's optimistic attitude, Tart was still apprehensive as he forced the vines covering the entrance to move aside, creating an opening small enough for the both of them to squeeze through. It was a stupid plan, at least from his perspective; it involved attempting to outrun hundreds of crows until they found an apartment building they could sneak into and then inquiring of one of the more liberal tenants for usage of their telephone.

It was a stupid plan, and Tart wasn't even sure it would work. But Pudding seemed confident enough, and it was worth a try.

Tart had chalked up his new attitude toward her -- insulting, but still somewhat kindly -- as a temporary truce that was necessary to his own survival. Even though he'd finally admitted that he didn't hate her, he was going to leave it at that. Kish may have been crazy enough to blatantly accept --and admit-- the fact that he actually loved that idiotic Ichigo, but Tart was determined not to go down that route. She wasn't that bad; Pudding was strangely not that bad to be around for more than ten minutes...and she was also pretty amusing...and her hair was pretty...and the tail wasn't a bad touch....

"ARG!!" Tart groaned, shaking his head furiously to shift the way his thoughts were moving.

You don't like her, not like that, you don't!!

Pudding turned to look at him. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing," Tart replied, sharply. "Nothing besides the fact that I still can't stand your guts!!"

"Oh, I knew that already." Pudding was used to Tart's pathetically crafted insults by then. "Are they still out there?"

Tart peered out into the open. He didn't see any of the birds, but he knew they were still out there, waiting. They would have followed them into the shed had he not covered the entrance with his vines. "They're out there somewhere. If we're going to do this, you have to be ready to run. I don't know what this roof elevator you're talking about looks like, so you're leading the way."

Pudding saluted, cheerfully. "Are you sure you can keep up with me? I'm pretty fast, you know."

Tart shot her an icy glare. "Of course I can, monkey girl."

"Okay, Tar Tar."

Tart sighed inwardly. He'd given up on Pudding's stupid nickname for him. "They're probably on top of the shed, so..."

"I'm ready, Tart." Pudding sounded completely serious. Tart grinned; Pudding's suicidal excitement was beginning to rub off on him.

"Then shall we go?"

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Tart was right. The crows were resting, perched on top of the shed and on the surrounding ledges in a thick black crowd that was drawing a lot of attention on the sidewalk below. Although Tart and Pudding would never know it, the animal attacks of that day had, true to Tart's earlier prediction, made it to the news...which hadn't aired yet, and wouldn't air until well after the other Mew Mews had left the cafe, not that it would have helped if it had. For all their technology and computer equipment, Ryou and Keiichiro did not have a single monitor tuned in to a TV station.

A large group of people, including those that had witnessed the earlier crow attack, had gathered around the news crew covering the strange situation.

So when Pudding and Tart burst out of the shed, pausing only to take in the sight of the crows regarding them in the most hateful manner and then dashing toward the next building (Tart floating, of course), it only increased the pandemonium on the sidewalk as reporters jostled each other in their attempts to photograph the crowd of crows that was beginning to take flight once again...and the crowd went wild at the sudden appearance of what appeared to be a scantily clad alien boy holding a Mew Mew soaring across the expanse to the next building with the crows hot on their trail.

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"One...two..."

"Don't bother with the countdown, dummy, just go!!" Tart shoved Pudding through the opening in the vines, nearly tripping over her tail (it was really becoming a cumbersome appendage, and it wasn't even his) as he exited right behind her.

Pudding staggered dizzily, giddy with excitement mixed with the effects of the flu. "That wasn't very polite, Tar Tar."

Tart was too frightened to answer. Pudding stood up, somewhat annoyed. "Hey, I'm talking to...oh." She trailed off as she followed Tart's gaze, sighting the crows surrounding them on all sides. "I guess telling them we're sorry isn't going to help."

"No, Pudding. No it isn't." Tart agreed quietly.

Looking back, Pudding, who was much more well-versed in the clichés that dominated the silver screen, would compare the following few seconds of their obvious revelation to the completely improbable 2 to 3 minutes in most monster movies when the hero (or heroine, depending) realizes that they are trapped in a rather precarious situation, spends a few precious moments considering which steps to take, then finally decides on the only step possible in such a situation. Which, of course, is to run.

Pudding and Tart were much faster. Almost immediately after noticing the host of crows staring at them with an intense predatory look in their eyes, they both turned to look at each other, screamed in unison, and took off running towards the nearest ledge at top speed, with the crows beginning to reform their cloud of ebony wings, intent on spearing not only Pudding, but her sole supporter as well.

Tart was not having a good day.

Neither was Pudding, and the little girl vocalized her distress between gasps of breath, her mind racing as she realized that they were going to jump the ledge, not just jump from it but attempt to leap to the other side without ending up tumbling through the shimmering early autumn air and hitting the pavement (although, had she known about the reporters and spectators blanketing the area Pudding would have also realized that she needn't have worried about falling that much). "THIS SUCKS!!" Pudding shrieked, leaping nimbly over a pile of cardboard boxes.

Something brushed against the fur of her tamarin ear. Pudding looked up in horror, wondering how the crows could have caught up to her that swiftly...and realized that Tart was not running, not in the sense of literally running, but flying, rather, airborne directly over her.

"Hey, no fair!!" Pudding cried. "How come I'm the only one that has to jump?"

Tart smiled down at her, not in a friendly manner. "I thought you said you could handle it, monkey girl."

"It's still not fair! Can't you give me a lift?"

"You're probably too heavy for me to carry anywhere!"

"I'm not fat!"

"I didn't say you were. I just said you LOOK like you weigh a ton!"

"That's the same thing!"

Tart didn't reply as he received his immediate comeuppance from one of the swifter crows, which rapped against his ankle sharply with it's beak. Tart cursed in his native language (the Japanese equivalent of which would have caused even Ryou to gasp in horror) and paused long enough to lash out at the crow with his foot, landing a rather harsh kick on the bird that shook quite a few feathers from it's body as it careened out-of-control into a nearby pole.

Pudding's cry caught his attention, and Tart glanced down to see the little girl bashing blindly at several crows with both rings. "You...stupid...stupid...buzzards!"

Pudding laid one crow senseless with a quick swipe of her ring, swiftly turning to brain the one intent on simply pulling her tail off. Tart, realizing that she had less of a chance of holding the birds off than he did, despite her sudden burst of energy, swept down long enough to kick the crow diving toward Pudding's eyes, seize the little girl around the waist and take off again, faster than he'd ever flown before.

Then again, he'd never had several hundred crows right on his tail, either.

Pudding cheered, overcome by the adrenaline rush. "Tar Tar, you're so nice!" she called happily over the din of the infuriated crows, shifting to hug the alien.

"AUGGH!" Tart shrieked. "Will you cut that out? The only reason I'm helping you is because--"

"Because you LIKE me!"

Tart considered dropping Pudding for a second at that point, sullenly realizing that without her he didn't stand much of a chance against the crows either. "Shut up, Pudding, and look for the elevator."

"You don't know what one looks like?"

"Just...look for the elevator," Tart replied with wonderful restraint.

"Okay." Pudding looked down at the rooftops forming a rapidly moving mosaic below them; despite their predicament she couldn't help but enjoy the sensation of weightlessness that encompassed flying. "There's cars...and there's a cat...and...uh....that's a...oh, dear, I'm sure he shouldn't be doing that in public. I'll have to ask Ichigo but I'm pretty sure that's illegal..."

Tart was beginning to feel very uncomfortable. His burst of speed was rapidly wearing down, especially with the added weight of Pudding; granted, the little girl wasn't that heavy, but he wasn't used to flying with cargo.

Especially live cargo.

"Do you see anything?" Tart asked, wearily.

Pudding shook her head with a sigh. "There aren't any elevators. At least I don't see any."

"Darn." Pudding looked up at him, concerned. "Are you okay, Tart?"

"Just keep looking."

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The crows were rapidly gaining on them by the second, and the entire flock of birds cawed in triumph as one crow sped up, managing to peck Tart on the back hard enough to draw blood.

-------------------------------------------------------

Pudding felt a jolt as Tart stopped abruptly, crying out in pain.

The wound, while not large in appearance, caught the alien by surprise. Not to mention that it hurt worse than anything the Mew Mews had ever thrown his way.

Exhaustion, now coupled with pain, got the better of Tart. "I'm sorry, Pudding," he muttered, eyes closing involuntarily and sending them both crashing onto a rooftop.

Pudding let out a shriek of terror, landing directly on her ankle. She was glad they hadn't had that far to fall, although it still hurt pretty badly. But didn't everything?

"Tart, wake up!" Pudding cried, shaking him roughly. Tart flinched, reaching behind him and drawing back a hand smeared with blood.

"Ouch...I guess they got me too." Tart smiled, his eyes remaining closed. "This is all my fault, you know. I don't blame you if you hate me."

The crows, now almost overhead, were beginning to circle, wheeling downward to close in for the kill.

"I don't, Tart, just get up!!" Pudding continued to shake him frantically, ignoring the ever-increasing pain in her head. "Get up, please, we can't give up just yet!!"

Tart shook his head. "I can't. I'm sorry. Just go, I started this."

"NO!!" Pudding was literally screaming at this point, the sky above her head blackening with beating wings and reverberating with maddened caws. "Come on!! Why are you giving up now? We made it this far!"

"We can't win this one, Pudding. Neither of us is strong enough."

Pudding stood up, tears of frustration in her eyes, looking upward at the crows wheeling above her head. Suddenly, as clear as any thought she ever had, the one possible solution rang in her mind, as she watched the crows drawing ever closer. Pudding took a few seconds to smile to herself, leaning down to pat Tart's hand comfortingly.

"You took care of me, so this time I'll protect you, okay?"

Tart's eyes popped open. "Pudding, what are you doing?!"

The little girl flashed him a final smile before turning and drawing one of her rings, standing out in the open as if to provide a target for the flock of crows.

"Pudding, stop!" Tart struggled to get to his feet against the throbbing in his back. He couldn't believe their escapade was going to end like this. Not after he'd just decided that he actually liked her after all. "No!"

Pudding grasped the ring in both hands, taking a deep breath.

"Pudding Ring Inferno," she whispered, and the ring seemed to ignite, a golden glow emerging from it.

Pudding's last thought before she turned the ring on herself, pressing it against her chest, was how beautiful the light was.

And then she screamed in agony as the ring seemed to burn into her very soul, causing her vision to dim and then crumble away into nothingness.

And the crows swooped down.

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...how strange...it doesn't hurt anymore...

will my body still be here? I wonder...

Can you hear me?

(Who are you?)

I'm Pudding. Or I guess I was.

(Are you human?)

Yes. I'm the one you want to kill, so can you please leave everyone else alone?

(All humans are the enemy.)

Why? What did we do?

Terrible images that frightened her flooded her brain, images of a level of cruelty that would have caused her to cry had she been capable of such an action.

(This is what will happen if we allow humans to live.)

No, it won't, it can't!

(And we should believe you?)

Yes! I mean, you don't have to, but please listen to me, okay?

(You are the enemy, and you must be destroyed.)

Then you can go ahead and kill me, but leave my friend and everyone else alone because they didn't do anything!! The waves of determination wafting from this new consciousness caused the crows to pause in wonder. This human obviously had a very strong will.

(Explain why we should spare a species that will lead to our eventual destruction.)

Because I know what my friend told you, but he's just a bit confused. Not all humans are bad. Some are really good people, they just don't realize that they're harming anyone. But no one that I know, and me, and even my friend would ever try to hurt you.

(Humans have behaved cruelly in the past. And how do you justify that?)

I...I can't. I can't pretend that that's not true, because I know that there are some bad humans...but that's why the good humans are here. And me. We're going to try to protect this world, and ourselves from destroying anything. And if you stoop to killing all the humans that you believe are bad, you're no better than the bad humans themselves! You'll only make people want to hurt you, and you'll die trying to protect yourselves. I don't want anyone or anything to die!

The crows were silent, digesting this information.

(We're only trying to protect ourselves...)

That's why we're here. That's why I'm here. We're going to take care of you, and everyone, so no one has to die. And you're such pretty birds that I feel really bad about hurting you before. I know you didn't want to hurt anyone. You were just scared, right?

The voice was calming and soothing, pure and innocent and full of wisdom all at once. If anything, the consciousness reminded the crows of themselves...determined to protect what was important to them. The crows' offspring was important to them, as well as their futures.

The crows were shocked to learn that they were important to this human, to the point that she was willing to sacrifice herself to protect them from the consequences of their actions.

(Who are you?)

I told you already, I'm Pudding!

(How is it that you are human...and yet you care more about life than even yourself?)

I don't know. But living things were meant to be living, right? And if making it so everything that's alive can continue to live is the way things should be...then that's what I'll do. Anyway, I like crows. Your wings are so pretty.

(Pudding...you are amazingly simple and yet strangely complex. We do not understand you. But we sense that you understand us better than ourselves. We will withdraw.)

Oh, thank you. And I promise, I'll do my best for everyone, okay? I'll take care of everyone.

And almost as quickly as the exchange had occurred, both consciousnesses dissipated, losing contact with each other.

However, the emotion prevalent was no longer cold hatred, but warmth. And hope.

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Tart had only been able to watch in horror as the crows surrounded Pudding, seemingly unaware of his presence.

Only then had he found the strength to rise, leaping to his feet and drawing his knife, blindly running over to where the little girl had stood, now covered entirely in fluttering birds....

...and stopping short as he heard Pudding's voice, as well as the collective voices of the crows.

The conversation seemed to last hours, however, Tart was dimly aware that the exchange had taken only a few minutes.

And then the crows lifted before his eyes, spreading across the rooftop. Tart found himself knocked back onto his rear end as beating wings struck his face. "Pudding!!"

Through the mad rush of birds he could see the little girl, kneeling with the rings still pressed against her chest. "Pudding!!" Tart managed to crawl over to her, ignoring everything but her as he groped his way through the flying feathers and rampaging birds. He placed a hand on her shoulder, shaking her frantically. "_PUDDING!!_"

The ring slipped from her fingers. Pudding's eyes opened, and she smiled weakly, falling forward into his arms. "Tar Tar, I spoke to the crows," she whispered, an expression of exhausted glee on her face.

"Yeah, monkey girl, you did." Tart was entirely too awed to protest to the physical contact; anyway, it had stopped bothering him as badly. Near death had a way of bringing people together.

Pudding suddenly shifted to look up at the sky, pointing excitedly. "Look, they're all going away!!"

Tart followed her gaze, and his breath hitched in his throat at the sight.

The crows had taken to the air, leaving behind myriads of shining, soft feathers fluttering in the slight breeze. They formed a strange shadow against the backdrop of white, fluffy clouds tinted golden in the afternoon sunlight, the beams reflecting off their wings and washing the entire flock of crows in iridescence.

It was amazingly beautiful, and Pudding sat back, nearly shaking with happiness as she and Tart watched the crows recede into the distance until they were merely pinpricks against a cerulean sky.

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I was going to leave you guys hanging after Pudding passed out, but cliffhangers cause readers to become angry and homicidal. :)

To everybody that's continuing to read my fics and leaving nice comments, thank you so much, and thank you for the cookies, Kinami-chan and BlueFairy-chan. I need the sugar rush. Don't think that's the end, cause there's mucho fluffiness to go; and if I'm doing anything wrong or anyone's OOC to the point where you're contemplating suicide drop me a line, okay?


	6. Logic

A.N.: I am SO sorry it's taken me forever and a day to update! Not only is senior year kicking my unmentionables, but writer's block...oy. This story isn't dead, and neither is Terms of Sentience. I know what you're thinking: 'He's admitted to himself that he doesn't hate her, right? What more can happen?"

Denial's not terminated that easily. : ) And no, I'm not lost and too stubborn to ask for directions, I know exactly where I'm going. Word of warning, though. The format and style of my writing's changed a bit since school started; I think it's for the better, but it's only fair to tell you when my brain does a 360. I hope you guys aren't too mad at me. This chapter was a to write; I originally posted version one at like bloody midnight, realized that I needed to have posted version two, and from then on it was mad rush to to take it down, spell-check...in other words, I apologize in advance if this chapter isn't up to my usual standards. Comments, flames, and critiques of any kind are appreciated. If I'm going to major in journalism I guess I need to learn how to deal with it. Oh, there's a quote at the beginning! As well as a Kodomo no Omocha/Sailor Moon reference!

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Main Entry: de·ni·al

Function: noun

: a psychological defense mechanism in which confrontation with a personal problem or with reality is avoided by denying the existence of the problem or reality

----excerpt from the Merriam-Webster Medical Dictionary, 2002 edition

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Tart wasn't sure exactly when his feelings toward Pudding had shifted from the intense hatred he'd begun to feel for ALL of the Mew Mews after they'd so rudely thwarted his plans for the first time.

In fact, from the very second Pie had left the unconscious Mew Mew in his arms, ordering him to tie her up and make sure she didn't escape, Tart had been seized with the almost uncontrollable urge to just whip out his knife and kill her right then and there.

He'd actually made up his mind to just go ahead and do it; after all, after she served her purpose as a hostage, and all the other Mew Mews had been taken care of, they'd have to do it anyway, right? He wasn't exactly thrilled about killing the girl in cold blood, not by a long shot, but then again they'd be forced to do far worse if they wanted to fulfill their mission. Tart would've preferred rousing the girl and provoking her into attacking him, in order to justify his retaliation; but then there would have been the matter of the terrified look in her eyes, her dying screams, the blood...Tart remembered clamping his hands over his pointed ears, shaking his head sadly. Having to become a killer when it wasn't in your nature was hell on his psyche. Humans were living creatures, too, and while he certainly didn't mind a Kirema anima doing his dirty work for him, it was something else altogether to do one in himself.

Still, it was the only way that he could eradicate the little monkey-tailed nuisance without giving himself a nervous twitch, and Tart knew it and had resigned himself to his duty to not only Kish and Pie, but his race...

...when Pudding whimpered, the sound completely shattering his resolve and causing him to lose his balance and altitude, sending him crashing into the straw of her cell.

Tart had popped up, scowling face covered in the hateful golden strands and pissed of all the more at allowing himself to be so greatly affected by a single noise (however familiar it had been, reminiscent of himself on so many occasions), and found himself staring at the girl, regarding her silently. She really all that much taller than him, perhaps a bit; all that aside, she still had a child's figure, her face the picture of innocence (although Tart knew good and darn well that Mew Pudding was anything but innocent)...Pudding, for all her annoyance and aggravation, was still a child, maybe not much older than he was, and Tart froze, the knife falling from his hands as he realized the chink in his armor. There was no way he could bring himself to kill a kid just like himself in cold blood, even if her race deserved it. Maybe she deserved it too. Tart didn't know.

But what he did know was that he had to get her tied up before she woke up and ran off. Little had he known that none of that really mattered.

Oh, how little had he known.

But from that point on, it was as if Pudding had hooked herself into his brain; from the moment she awakened and poked her nose against his, the expression of confusion that he would grow to love on her face, her golden eyes wide with innocence. And she had, her invasion of his life beginning the very night of their escapade. Tart couldn't help but chuckle, albeit rather bitterly, when thinking back to how all his troubles had really begun: with a single dream.

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Tart couldn't remember the last dream he'd had that hadn't resulted in his awakening his comrades with either whimpers or a scream; he was glad that, despite Kish's jovial attitude toward just about everything, he really was a good friend.

Because Kish had more dirt on him than Tart could bring himself to imagine.

He'd dreamt of his mother, from time to time, which normally ended up in a 'Kish blackmail' situation: Tart sobbing and Kish simultaneously standing guard against Pie discovering Tart's emotional state and attempting to comfort his friend. Thankfully, those had stopped as of late, replaced by nightmares of a nature that scared him; Tart had always believed himself to be confident, sometimes a little too confident, but always secure in his own strength and abilities.

And then the nightmares came and ravaged his soul at night, if only to dissolve the illusion that he was perfectly capable of handling anything.

Sometimes they were general, replays of battles they'd engaged in with the Mew Mews painted a deeper shape of red. Kish was often involved in those as well, spending hours and hours on end assuring Tart that everything would be okay; in a universe where races expired, planets slowly decomposed into nothingness and mothers left their children they alone would survive, they'd triumph, even if only equipped with the sheer force of their determination.

Occasionally, Tart was forced to bite his lip and hold in the tears, because he sometimes had terrible nightmares in which Kish was no longer there to comfort him...because he was with Ichigo. Tart was sure this was part of the reason he hated her so much; she stood against and seemed to be bent on taking away everything that he loved and believed in. Including his friend.

Then there were the rare dreams in which Pie, Kish, and himself were forced to return home empty-handed, at the mercy of the scornful glances and silences of the remaining people that had placed their hopes upon them; or the rarer still dream in which they triumphed, only to find that they'd taken far too long and were now all alone, the last vestiges of their race wasted away.

Tart was content simply to not dream at all.

The night of his failed kidnapping attempt he'd teleported back to the ship in an uncharacteristically bad mood, so much that Pie had sent him to his 'room' after several verbal assaults of a profane nature on his shipmates. Tart was in such a fine old temper that he really didn't give a damn, retiring to his bed, throwing a rather pathetic tantrum for his own benefit. He'd fallen over out of sheer exhaustion after scarfing down the candy she'd given him and then ranting and raving about how much he hated her for a full 3 hours, a regiment guaranteed to tire ANYONE out.

Which led to the first pleasant dream he'd had in some time.

Tart found himself inexplicably standing in a field of radiant golden flowers, stretching in all directions and topped with similarly colored butterflies, all beneath a sky tinted golden by a blazing midafternoon sun.

It was as if the entire world had been brushed with a deep sheen of golden, and Tart felt his breath hitch in his throat. His planet had never even looked minutely as beautiful, not even before the storms and the Ferrets.

"It's so pretty today!!" A familiar cheerful voice exclaimed from behind him, and Tart turned to see Pudding, clad in her Mew Mew garb replete with tail and ears, her face lit up joyfully.

Tart had never had a dream with any of the Mew Mews actually speaking directly to him in it; most of the dreams that involved any of the five annoyances were of a violent nature. However, this was different: instead of a blood-stained battlefield strewn with corpses he was standing in the middle of a field full of flowers, and as if that wasn't bad enough, the only Mew Mew present was the crazy one.

Even worse, he found he didn't have the urge to run her through, although he thought perhaps he should have. He wasn't sure why killing her wasn't appealing, either. Oh. Right. He'd been stupid enough to identify with her. Tart had hissed inwardly. "Well that's just zarking wonderful."

He froze uncharacteristically, not sure whether to stab her (not even an option), run for his life, or ask her just what the heck was going on. Tart had never been so confused in his life.

The result was less than cool or collected. He facefaulted into a clump of flowers, his face embarrassingly reddened, drawing out peals of laughter from Pudding.

Tart groaned, hiding his face in the golden flowers. He strove to maintain a 'professional' attitude around all of the Mew Mews, dutifully maintaining the visage of the 'conscientiously evil super villain that shows his victims no mercy', although he often lost control and ended up throwing a tantrum anyway. Having the people he was trying to kill respect him in spite of his size and obvious lack of maturity was one of Tart's pet peeves; he liked being taken seriously. It made him feel quite a bit more confident in himself. Too bad he was so terrible at actually carrying the facade through. Ichigo had already called him a midget. Now Pudding had adopted him as her 'friend', which was a hundred times worse than the height reference considering he was supposed to kill her at some point.

Tart's cheeks burned with embarrassment and frustration. So much for his 'villain' stance; he'd blown what cover he barely had. Tart seized handfuls of grass and tossed them into the air in a miniature tantrum. "Oh, zark this!!" he shouted, completely forgetting that Pudding was watching him make a fool of himself on now another level. As if she hadn't seen it enough.

A pair of golden irises suddenly appeared before his own, and Tart stopped long enough to note that Pudding had also thrown herself into the flowers and was imitating him, seemingly having a conversation with herself. "And now for my next magical trick, a useful method of maintaining household and gardening cleanliness without the usage of unsightly and costly gardening tools such as hoes, spades, and pickaxes, which aren't even sold in Japan so I'm not sure why I'm mentioning them! Who even cares? My lovely assistant..." She stopped to look up at Tart, a perfectly serious expression on her face.

"Hey, lovely assistant, would you rather be referred to as lovely or handsome?"

Tart answered without thinking, still somewhat surprised at the turn of events. "Handsome, stupid! I'm not a girl."

Pudding nodded for confirmation, then resumed yanking out whatever plants were in her reach. "Right-o! My handsome assistant, Tar-Tar, and I shall demonstrate how to rid oneself of yucky weeds and flowers that have bees in 'em and other stuff that you just don't want in your yard in 3 simple steps. Tar-Tar, assume the position!"

Tart still hadn't regained his sense of mental control. "What?"

Pudding sighed in aggravation. "Get on the ground and grab ahold of some flora, Tar Tar! Geez, we've done this routine a million times!"

Tart did as he was told, now completely confused. He had no idea what she was going on about. He also had no idea that that would become the norm in their relationship.

"Right! Step one; grab a weed, like so! Step two, yank it out like the time you chased the boy bent on looking at your underpants in kindergarten down and went to work on his scalp! Three, throw it over your shoulder and return to step one!" Pudding went to work tearing up the foliage with such conviction that Tart finally broke at the ridiculous display, which was far worse than any tantrum he'd ever thrown, any stupid human antic he'd ever witnessed.

Tart burst out laughing, overcome by the turn for sheer insanity his life had taken. One minute he'd been an aspiring assassin skilled in genocide, now he was in a field of flowers with a crazy monkey girl he'd failed to kill. None of it made any sense. And for some reason, he felt giddy. As if he was enjoying the madness. Pudding ceased throwing clumps of grass and dirt over her shoulder to laugh along with him, and Tart felt happier than he'd even believed he was capable of, as if he wanted to remain forever with this crazy girl and her strange antics, under the golden sky.

"Wow." Tart muttered in awe. "She's made me crazy, too."

When they finally calmed down, Tart flipped over to glare at her and shake his head disapprovingly.

"How tragic."

Pudding blinked. "That wasn't a tragedy, Tar Tar; that was my weekly magic show I host on Tokyo AM 750."

"I mean it's tragic that you've lost your mind before you're even as old as Ichigo."

Pudding smirked. "And how do you know that Ichigo isn't just as crazy as I am? If I were crazy, 'cause I'm not."

Tart raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure why he was even bothering to converse with her, but it wasn't as if there was anything better to do. "Then what do you call it on Earth?"

Pudding rose to her feet and attempted a clumsy pirouette. "Silly Tar Tar, I'm a star!"

"In your mind you are, monkey girl."

"No, really!!" Pudding attempted another pirouette, this time tripping over her own tail. A ballerina she wasn't, not even when there was no golden lion tamarin tail to fall over. "I'm going to be the biggest star Tokyo has ever seen! Even bigger than that chick that played Rini for six years straight in the Bishoujo Senshi Sera Myu musical! And she was everywhere! I'm the next Sana Kurata!!"

"When you can't stand up without falling over?" Tart quipped.

"Sure can! Even if I'm not a..." Pudding paused, spitting out the word somewhat distastefully, "fashion model, even if I can't walk, I can still be a trapeze artiste! Anyway, Lettuce-chan is clumsy, not me! Even though she's very pretty, like Zakuro, and Zakuro can walk, and Mint can walk too, even though Ichigo can because her eyes get big and she swings back and forth." Pudding suddenly clenched her small fist in determination. "So what if I'm a kid? I can be famous like everybody else 'cause I've got talent!"

Tart sighed. The girl was obviously delusional, although he was finding that he did enjoy listening to her rave. It was amusing, if anything. "Uh-huh. Pudding, you've got some serious mental issues."

Pudding smiled at him, somewhat knowingly. "But that's why you like me, right?"

Tart had awakened at that point, drenched in sweat and with one three word phrase on his tongue, the only one capable of fully expressing his surprise.

And for some reason, he was kind of sorry he was awake.

Tart could trace the beginning of the gradual shift in his attitude toward her to that single dream. At first he'd been unsure as to whether he really hated her or not. At least his reverie had cleared things up a bit for him. She was aggravating, but he didn't want her dead. Not quite.

Afterwards he always had to attempt to kick himself considering all the chances Pudding had given him to do her in, all the times he'd hesitated, thus giving her the chance to glomp him, or shove candy into his mouth....however, looking back, he knew he couldn't have really killed her. Thrashed her, maybe, she did deserve it for playing with him as if he were another lowly human child. But killed her? Nah. She was a kid, and he'd decided that it was much more fun to pick with her than follow through on his idle threats.

He also liked her, for varying reasons, although he'd never allow himself to admit.

And it was that hidden emotion that seemingly influenced all his thoughts from then on. It was gradual, so slow that it went undetected; as if every time he looked in her direction, there was something different, something he hadn't noticed on the previous occasion. The way her hair absorbed the light, the way every fur on her tail was of a differing shade of shimmering brown, how pretty her smile was. It was small, abstract thoughts like that that piled up, lining his brain...until, several days afterwards, he found that he blushed every time he thought about her, which he did simply because the thought of her made him ecstatically happy, and this went on for maybe two or three days, this stupid, flummoxed, goofy feeling, and then Kish had caught him staring at the Earth with a dumb expression on his face, promptly informing Tart that he was in love with something or someone before falling to the ground and laughing hysterically at the open-mouthed grimace of sheer horror Tart gave him.

Tart had been horrified, now that his mind repieced itself from the fragments it had shattered into. (He'd discovered a human saying for it, much later, and made the determination that Pudding had not only 'blown his mind', she'd caused it to spontaneously combust.) Most of the horror came from the realization that he'd been crazy enough to develop feelings for a human; however, it doubled in mass when he found that the thoughts were not leaving. Whether HE wanted it or not, he was in love with his enemy, a maddened monkey girl who he made various halfhearted attempts to kill on almost a daily basis.

And, the truth was, deep in heart Tart didn't really mind at all, because he did like Pudding at least, if for the comedy factor, and heck with it, Kish was in love with that pink-haired bimbo, to the point that he, too, was all mopey and depressed. Tart had to smirk at that one. Ichigo couldn't look at Kish for five minutes without trying to kill him, and here Pudding was, trying to entice Tart into starting a road show with her as her makeshift husband. And Kish thought he was a ladies' man, did he.

The following few days found Tart wondering exactly how their relationship could play itself out. Maybe, when all the humans were gone (including Ichigo, because Tart was sure as hell making sure she got her just desserts), maybe he could keep Pudding; perhaps she wouldn't mind living among his people, especially after she saw how beautiful Earth could be. Maybe they could just go somewhere else, return his planet and take her with him. Maybe he could sabotage his comrades' attacks, and the Mew Mews as well, hopefully extending their turf war. He didn't want to even think about Deep Blue, because he had no idea how she could survive him. It didn't bear thinking about.

Tart's life was somewhat of a mosaic, his dreams now filled with thoughts of his status as a traitor, of their failures, of Pudding's smile; his thoughts dominated by the same. What with Kish running himself ragged over Ichigo, Pie brooding, and Tart himself torn between loyalty and a girl he wanted nothing more than to face and admit that she was right, he didn't hate her after all, in fact, he was pretty sure he lov...and forever, the words that would never come, to either his lips or her ears. Tart was very, very tired, knowing he had to make a decision eventually, and not sure how.

The answer came, strangely enough, in the form of a nightmare.

One that had Tart in tears for hours, with both Kish and Pie on standby, because if everything else hadn't killed his heart he was sure that it was feeling its death throes.

---------------------------------------------

He could remember it, almost as clearly as if it were a fresh memory, a raw wound.

She was in her Mew Mew form, replete with tail and ears, standing only a few feet from him, as usual. Normally his dreams involving Pudding were of the same strange formula; replays of their bizarre interaction with his improvisions; sometimes they were of a much calmer nature. In these she never spoke directly to him, never paid much attention to him other than to flash a beautiful smile, or laugh, in her chiming manner, at some joke only she could hear. At first Tart had been irked, enough to storm over to her and try to upbraid her somehow, only to have the girl disappear like a spirit of some sort, and the lovely watercolor world her presence had inspired to dissipate before his eyes, which would then snap wide open in the darkness leaving him blushing and wondering why he simply couldn't dream forever.

These, of course, swiftly evolved into feverish dreams in which the watercolor world was blurred, the only visible thing within his line of vision her. Tart had found this kind of dream frustrating, as each one was driven by a burning desire to finally walk over to her, to touch her without her image shattering, to see if this girl who now dominated his dreams was as wonderful in person as he now believed her to be. He was well aware of the fact that it was a dream and nothing more, but the thought of acting on his newly discovered feelings with the real Pudding caused him to blush so fiercely that he was hard-pressed to hide his appearance from Kish, who would have had SOMETHING to say about it.

This dream, however, was similar and yet different. The normally intricately-woven watercolor world had been replaced with an endless field of gray, silent and ominous-looking. Pudding, normally immaculate in her Mew Mew uniform, staring off into the distance, was now facing him...and Tart was surprised to see how roughed-up the girl appeared, as if she'd lost a battle with a Kirema anima, her eyes sad and full of tears. As well as fear.

"Pudding?" Tart found himself feeling rather unnerved at both the scenery, as well as Pudding's state. "What happened?"

Pudding looked up at him slowly, silent for a few minutes before answering, in a monotone, "Everything's gone now."

Tart shivered at the strange quality of her voice, so far removed from its normal cheeriness. "Whatdya mean, everything's gone?"

"Ichigo, and Mint, and Zakuro, and Lettuce are gone." Pudding replied, simply.

"Well where'd they go? And where are we anyway?"

Pudding smiled, rather disturbingly. "Silly Tart, you know all this stuff, so why do you keep asking me?"

Tart was already beginning to feel the first pangs of fear, and Pudding's attitude did nothing to alleviate it. "No, I don't!! Will you just tell me what happened?"

"Tart, you dummy. Of course you know where Ichigo and Mint and Zakuro and Lettuce are." Pudding lowered her head, staring at the ground. "You sent them there." Her head snapped up swiftly enough to cause Tart to jump in surprise. "You, and Kish, and Pie. You're the reason all my friends are gone."

The girl turned her back on him disdainfully. "I hate you."

She started to walk off, leaving Tart in mild shock. Of course he'd put two and two together almost immediately, and it was strange how he really couldn't grasp the concept that they'd finally defeated the Mew Mews and procured Earth for themselves. After all the pain and hardships, it didn't even register that the game was over. And then there was Pudding. Why was she still alive, if all the Mew Mews were gone? Was she not a Mew Mew too?

It hit him almost as quickly as he'd posed the question. Pudding was a Mew Mew, that was certain. But she differed from the other Mew Mews in that Tart felt differently about her. He didn't even want to think about having to get rid of her. And yet...the thought of succeeding, of being able to see the tears of joy in the eyes of those he and his friends had left behind, the sheer exhilaration of announcing that their entire race was saved, that they'd been given a new lease on life...Tart sank to his knees, heart ripped in two as he realized the inevitable.

He realized now how foolish his plans had been...Pudding loved her world, its despicable people. She'd never agree to his destroying it. He'd have to kill her first.

As Pie would have said, in his intelligent matter...the two possibilities (their victory, himself and Pudding) were novel ideas, both probably achievable on their own...but as a single intermeshed reality? Not possible. He could continue on his path, succeed at purging Earth of the useless human race, save his people, emerge as a hero...but Pudding would have to die, as well.

Or he could tell Pudding he loved her, he could finally let his chained heart free to soar alongside hers...but he'd have to betray his friends, his people, himself.

He could sacrifice everyone for the sake of his own heart. For a stupid human girl. For a girl that was supposed to be his enemy. For a girl that he was pretty sure he was in love with.

But that was selfish, painfully so. He remembered a saying Pie had picked up somewhere on Earth, one he often used on Kish and Tart when they protested one of his orders. The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few. One couldn't afford to be selfish when so much more than their own happiness was at stake.

And Tart couldn't imagine a life spent being aware of his own selfishness. Something had to be sacrificed.

He just wished it didn't have to be himself.

Tart rose to his feet shakily, jaw set in a grim line, fists clenched in resolve.

"Pudding."

Pudding stopped, turning to look back at him, tears rolling down her cheeks. The sight pained him. And yet, somewhere deep inside, Tart felt a small sense of satisfaction at the realization that he'd finally beaten her. And that hurt as well.

"What do you want?" Pudding asked, her voice heavy with sorrow.

Tart didn't respond, quietly gliding over to hover in front of Pudding, a sad smile on his face.

Their eyes met, and for a second Tart felt his resolve fade.

Only for a second.

"This fairy tale can't possibly have a happy ending, Pudding." Tart said, unable to hide the bitterness in his voice. Pudding gave him a confused look, innocent as ever.

"But all fairy tales have a happy ending, Tar Tar."

Tart shook his head, reaching out to wipe the tears from Pudding's cheek. "Not for everyone."

Pudding seemed to freeze as Tart leaned closer, his face only inches away from hers. Tart was aware that he himself was crying at this point, and yet he had to continue. He had to break free.

"Sometimes...for everyone else to have a happy ending...someone has to..." Tart paused, searching for the right words. "Someone has to die. It's always like that, Pudding. There are no happy endings, anywhere. Not for everyone in the story. Not this story."

And then he allowed his heart to beat once more as he kissed her, wrapping his arms around her shoulders and drawing her close, as if unwilling to let her go. Pudding, in spite of her distraught state, returned the kiss, just as fervently...

...and then gasped in pain as Tart's knife found its mark.

The little girl drew back in shock, staring in horror, speechless at the cold expression on Tart's face.

Tart forced himself to smile, his fangs visible. "You're standing in the way of my happy ending, Pudding. I'm sorry."

He wasn't sure whether he was lying or not. He suspected he wasn't. But then again, as he watched the life drain from the once effervescent girl, the girl that was so full of life that she illuminated everyone else's...it didn't matter anymore.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Tart didn't remember whether he dreamed again after that. Dreams were just that, fragile wishes meant to be shattered. He also never told Kish or Pie the details of the nightmare, although he suspected that Kish knew somehow.

And even when his heart skipped a beat at the sight of Pudding, he ignored it, pushed it aside. Love had no place in him. He had a mission to accomplish, and afterwards...Tart wasn't sure what he'd do afterwards. Maybe they'd fail. Somehow, neither option seemed to matter much.

Not without Pudding, as if the removal of her from his conscious thoughts had killed his spirit. As if his heart was broken.

And yet he forced himself to refrain from retrieving its pieces. It had to be that way.

Kish was extremely perceptive. He seemed to know more about what was going on with Tart than Tart himself knew, and often ventured to tell Tart that he was 'stuck in a state of denial.'

Tart knew it was true. He was in denial.

He had to be.

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Well, that was nicely depressing. Once again, I'm sorry for the long wait. Writer's block, college applications....everything's out to get me here. About this chapter....I felt it was necessary to explain Tart's behavior in a kind of 'aside'. After all, it is weird to go from being all "I hate you" to "NO! I love you soo much!! Don't die!!"....yeah. Papi rambles. And it is a pretty legitimate concern that they don't seem to mention in the manga or anime. Don't think Tart thinks that accurately? Heh. Don't ask a fanfiction writer to rationalize everything.

Chapter 7's up next!! Hang with me!


	7. Determination

A.N.: So after a long, grueling hiatus of college applications, last minute classes and all the madness that precedes liberation from the madness that is high school, here I am, lying on my bed, nearly dead from exhaustion, and I think to myself, maybe I should go check my e-mail and see if _someone _has finally accepted me! I click into Yahoo! Mail with bated breath and an eye twitch 'cause I know I'm going to end up working at McDonald's, and the only new mail I see is a review. Somewhat disappointed, but I'm like, well, at least people are reading my fanfiction and when I end up sleeping in an alley because I didn't go to college I can at least say that I'm a semi-decent writer! The review is from 'CuTeWiTtLeMoNkEy', who is all like 'I WANT CHAPTER 7!'

Whoops. You know what? I completely forgot that I hadn't finished this fic! You guys have my sincerest apologies for leaving you hanging like that. So I guess I'm back after forever, and no, we're nowhere near finished. And to think, this idea was originally a one-shot. Heh. Incidentally, I'm sorry for the 'blurb'/quote at the beginning, but it has its purpose. See, now everyone can go tell their parents that fanfiction is educational!

Disclaimer: I don't own Tokyo Mew Mew. I don't own anything other than fifty cents at the moment, and a dire fear of how the heck I'm going to _pay_ my tuition. :argh: Fluff AHOY!

* * *

"Increases of blood endorphin levels are associated with exercise, sexual activity and stress, as well as emotional responses such as laughter and nervousness. Endorphins are best known for the euphoric feeling they arouse in athletes and thrill seekers. Those of us who have experienced a "queasy" or nervous feeling in our stomach prior to a race, or what can be described as an "adrenaline rush" during strenuous exercise, have felt the effect of endorphins within the body; a hormonal response has been triggered, resulting in a powerful analgesic that allows us to ride the "high." Or pursue our physical limits. The effect of endorphins can be viewed as a protective mechanism that allows our bodies to endure or prepare for a traumatic event. It is often at the root of a person's ability to find temporary loss of pain when severe injury occurs and/or an athlete's ability to push his/her body beyond the normal physical limitations." Einstein Medical.

* * *

Although there was no way she could have known, Pudding had accomplished one of her most exceptional feats that day, even aside from her stand against the crows, coupled with the injection of DNA into herself in order to address them; had Ryou and Keiichiro discovered that the Mew Mews possessed such a power, it might have opened up an entirely divergent avenue of possible research for them. Even more remarkable was the little girl's selflessness, a quality foreign to the majority of children her age; looking back, Pudding would remember not a fear of seemingly inevitable death at her own hands, but how proud the other Mew Mews would be of her, happiness at being able to prevent anymore bloodshed, and a slight warmth in her heart at the memory of devouring star candies with Tart, elation at the knowledge that he didn't hate her, after all.

If the function of the Mew Mews was to put themselves on the line in an altruistic, self-sacrificing manner for the good of the otherwise defenseless, then Pudding Fong had succeeded at her duty that day, with distinction.

Her most impressive feat, however, was accomplishing it all with the flu.

Pudding had contracted an extremely virulent strain of the influenza virus, evident by the sudden onset and proliferation of her symptoms. Normally, the virus should have put her out of commission from the very start; however, somehow she kept going against the gradient of pain the disease continually forced into her, driven by sheer determination not to let something as stupid as a cold get her down. The battle with the crows had actually been somewhat beneficial to her struggle the unavoidable adrenaline rush resulting from several consecutive near-death situations had all but pushed the flu virus to the side, preventing it from affecting her performance too greatly while she and Tart ran for their lives. For all Pudding knew, her 'cold' was gone for good.

But it wasn't. The virus lay latent, replicating and growing more potent by the second, slowly attacking her immune system, waiting for the rush of endorphins to recede for the chance to make it's move, strengthened by Pudding's exertion during her 'conversation' with the crows.

And as Pudding began to calm down following the crow attack, the virus struck out. So swiftly and aggressively, in fact, that Pudding's immune system was crippled by the blow, too decimated to launch a counterattack. And the flu began to take hold.

* * *

"Tar Tar..."

"Shut up."

"But Tar Tar..."

"Shut up, Pudding."

"Why?"

"I have a headache!"

"Well, so do I but you don't see me...I mean, you don't hear me telling anybody to shut up!"

"I wasn't saying anything before you started running off at the mouth!"

"I'm not running off at the mouth!"

"I can't stand you! Shut up!"

Pudding was silent for perhaps a quarter of a second, before replying, her voice taking on a pleading twinge, "But Tar Tar..."

"What?" Tart exploded. He _did_ have a headache, among other various aches and pains, especially at the site of the gash the crow had left on the small of his back; the silence following the recession of the flock of birds, the warm feeling of Pudding curled up against his chest (had Kish been present, Tart thought, with a fanged grin of satisfaction, he'd have either ground his teeth in jealousy; hereas Ichigo seemingly had no aspirations towards Kish other than to kill him, Tart had a human girl literally throwing herself at him; that, or he would have laughed himself into an apoplectic fit at having seen it coming long before Tart had even given it a second thought), the molten gold of the sun sinking into a sea of orange and pink clouds were all wonderful distractions from his discomfort.

And then Pudding had started talking again, and Tart was slowly learning that listening to Pudding normally resulted in his own confusion.

"You're sitting on my tail, Tar Tar," Pudding said, rather quietly.

"...oh."

Tart rolled over, allowing Pudding to retrieve her battered, bruised golden lion tamarin tail (the fur was no longer honey brown, but dyed crimson where there was still fur; the crows had savaged it with a vengeance.) Pudding hugged her tail to her chest with a ragged sigh. "It's a good thing it goes away when I'm not a Mew Mew," she commented, sounding uncharacteristically dismal. The remaining beams of sunlight caught the sheen of perspiration on her forehead, causing it to shimmer. The girl's eyes were entirely too dull for Tart's liking, which surprised him.

Strange, how quickly he'd seemingly accepted the feelings he'd spent such a long time burying within himself. Tart shuddered at how rapidly he'd given in at the thought that Pudding might have actually not survived whatever she'd done with the ring, the blind panic driving him towards the wall of ebony feathers, unsure of what he'd do if they turned on _him_ but unable to stand the thought of them doing anything to _her_. That was love, wasn't it? Or _like_, at least, being prepared to take on a flock of semi-psychotic carrion crows over a girl you claimed you hated? Kish would have done it for Ichigo; heck, he went easy on the strawberry-haired nuisance (even if Tart did like Pudding, there was still no love lost between himself and the leader of the Mew Mews) 75 percentof the time, the remaining 25 percent representing the few times Pie caught on to his schemes and hinted at suspension. That selflessness, being willing to sacrifice oneself, was love.

It was also, in his case, selfishness.

Tart sighed. And he still hadn't solved the problem of his denial. Which had become quite the serious problem, given his newest revelation...

...he _liked_ being in love with Pudding. It was a nice feeling, being worried about someone who seemed to worry about you just as much as you did about them. Tart shook his head, as if to clear his mind; that was another thing he liked about this new sensation. It was dizzying, made one light-headed. It kept the thoughts that frightened him, guilt over his failures and fear of the future, from ravaging him, as they tended to when he wasn't careful.

A harsh hacking sound caught his attention, and Tart looked up to see the girl in question hunched over in the throes of another coughing fit, her entire frame shaking with the effort.

The amount of ultimatums being thrown in his face were beginning to get on Tart's nerves. This one was quite simple, although that did nothing to ease the sting that went along with either choice.

He still had a chance to save himself, from what he would become (traitor, decimator of struggling worlds) if he didn't let go of her hand.

But how could he, when she needed him?

Tart started to race to Pudding's side, completely ignoring his now apparently irked conscience (it didn't seem to enjoy him making such rash decisions without even considering consulting it), only to find himself halted as the girl's body was once again enveloped in a wave of blinding light, just as it had when she'd transformed earlier that day. The sudden illumination forced his eyelids shut, causing Tart to stagger a few steps back (why did their attacks, their transformations, even their _outfits_ have to be so very luminescent? His initial attack on Ichigo had almost come to a premature end at the sight of her ridiculous pink garb.)

The light faded almost as swiftly as it had been emitted, leaving a much battered, weary-looking Pudding slightly slumped on the rooftop in her now torn casual clothing. She struggled to her feet, a sour expression on her face. Pudding looked up at Tart, a semblance of a bitter smile playing upon her lips. "You know what, Tar Tar? You'd THINK my tail wouldn't hurt so much when it's not even there, but it still does."

Tart wasn't sure how to respond to that one. He had a feeling that interacting with Pudding would have quite a drastic effect on his own excessive chattering.

"Isn't that stupid? I mean, how can something hurt when it isn't even there?" Pudding paused to cough again; Tart shook his head in disbelief. Even falling apart the girl _still_ didn't understand the concept of silence. "I think you're just imagining it, monkey girl."

"No, I'm not." Pudding swayed on her feet, and Tart unconsciously leaned forward to embrace her, allowing her to rest her head on his shoulder. "Everything still hurts, even when I'm not a Mew Mew. Or maybe I'm always a Mew Mew. But then..." Pudding fell silent for a second. "...sometimes I don't want to be a Mew Mew, because everything has to disappear when I am."

"What do you mean?" Somewhere in the corner of his mind Tart wondered why she was telling him as much as she was it hadn't occurred to him that Pudding might have developed a level of trust concerning him just that quickly.

"You can't be my friend when I'm a Mew Mew." Pudding looked up, her eyes sad despite her smile. "But I'm always a Mew Mew, so we can't be friends, Tar Tar. Is that what you wanted to say?"

Tart sighed. "It's taken you this long to grasp the concept?"

"No. I just didn't want to lose anything else. It's sad when people go away all the time." For some reason, Tart thought of his mother at that point. He didn't say anything.

Pudding straightened up, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. "I'm sorry if I got you in trouble...or made you worry, Tar Tar," she apologized with perfect sincerity. "Friends aren't supposed to do that. And they aren't supposed to force people to be their friend...if they don't want to. Or they can't." Tart managed to catch the hint of hopefulness in her voice, although he remained silent, staring into space.

They stood like that for a moment, neither stating the obvious. Pudding spoke first, making a pathetic attempt to sound cheerful. "Well, it's been fun, Tar Tar, but I have to go now."

Tart replied without looking up at her. "Are you..."

"I can make it home by myself, thank you very much," Pudding responded rather haughtily, grinning. "I just need you to give me my grocery bags when I get down the ladder because if I tried to carry them down I'd drop them and then I'd have to tell my brothers and sister to go find bugs to eat in the yard and they'd cry again." She turned to leave, then looked back at Tart. "But thank you for saving me, Tar Tar. I'm...still your friend, even if you can't be mine."

Tart felt something he hadn't felt since he, Kish, and Pie had departed their planet: his heart breaking.

He wondered how long Pudding had been in denial as well, forcing herself to believe in a tenuous happy ending to their childish game of make-believe.

Although she, he noted, with a hint of admiration, freed herself from it, completely illogically. Pudding planned to live in her illusion, to believe that the world was perfect. She refused to give up the vestiges of her innocence, in spite of whatever pain it might cause her.

Perhaps she was stronger than he'd given her credit for.

She was stronger than he was, at any rate. Tart found himself staring after her as she walked off, slowly, and with effort, but as determined as ever.

* * *

Pudding was proud of herself.

Somewhat.

(That was dumb, Pudding.)

It WAS stupid, she knew...or maybe it hadn't been. She'd known for the longest how nervous she made Tart, how ridiculous her constant raving over their relationship was. He'd always been hesitant, denying holding any feelings for her other than hatred. It wasn't true, of course; Pudding knew from the way he blushed that he most _definitely_ did not hate her. But they _were_ enemies, in spite of everything she wanted to be true, and it was selfish of her to continually attempt to force him into believing that that wasn't the case.

The truth was, she didn't want to let Tart go. The people you loved always left, no matter how hard you tried to convince them to stay. She wasn't sure why she loved him, perhaps just the thought of having someone to argue with, someone her age (or who at least appeared to be), someone who knew she was a Mew Mew and wouldn't care, other than to occasionally make comments on how much she behaved like a monkey even when she _wasn't_ in Mew Mew form. Someone she could shirk her responsibilities around. Like Ichigo and Masaya; Mint and Zakuro seemed to spend a lot of time together... heck, even Lettuce (who she did spend a lot of spare time with, although occasionally it was awkward, seeing as Lettuce was somewhat older than she was) spent quite a bit of time staring at Ryou, who returned the glances almost as often. And then everyone had friends outside of Cafe Mew Mew, a luxury she could remember only when she didn't have so many different things and people to take care of. Everyone seemed to have someone. Except her.

"But it's over, okay?" she muttered to herself, placing a hand against her forehead as she slowly headed toward the ladder; after the events of the day her muscles were lodging a formal complaint. "It's over, and you have to go home and take care of everyone again." Responsibility didn't cease simply because you were sick and miserable. Besides, she had her memories...and a hope that she wouldn't allow to fade: that Tart wasn't planning to give up that easily.

But she couldn't worry about that, now thatshe was _horrifically_ late; Chincha, Lucha, Honcha, Hanacha, and Heicha had been away on a field trip to the Tokyo Aquarium with their entire elementary school (including the 'nursery' classes; Heicha was in kindergarten but her brothers simply attended the extremely convenient daycare classes that her school offered) that had organized. The thought of the aquarium crawling with small children threatened to cause her to burst out laughing; however, the permission form she'd forged her mother's name on had mentioned that the children would be dropped off at their houses sometime after 6:30, and Pudding could tell from the descending twilight that it was close to six o'clock. Her nap would have to wait until she found something quick and easy to fix for dinner.

Pudding paused as a sharp pang seared across her forehead. She began to wonder whether she should have splurged on the extra flu shot. A week of eating peanut butter and banana sandwiches might not have been _that_ bad. It certainly seemed much more desirable than the alternative.

She sneezed, the action causing her enflamed throat to hurt even worse.

Heck with it. Maybe she'd fix them peanut butter and banana sandwiches after all.

She managed to take another ten good steps toward the ladder before collapsing into another fit of hacking and coughing.

Pudding clutched her stomach in misery, willing herself to _stop_; each cough she choked out seemed to tear piercing holes into her throat, simultaneously causing her pounding headache to spike. A twinge of fear began buzzing within her stomach; she'd _never_ had such a bout of the flu as badly as the one she was experiencing, never had a cold she couldn't beat.

(Stop it.)

Another rasping cough, as if her illness was attempting to shake her apart from the inside.

(STOP it.)

She squeezed her eyes shut, whispering the words inwardly as though they were a mantra.

(Stop it, stop it, YOU HAVE TO GO HOME, YOU HAVE TO TAKE CARE OF...)

Another hack tore itself from her throat.

(You promised, Pudding. You promised Mom-)

"That I...that I would take care of them."

* * *

She'd always hated the antiseptic smell of the hospital; had hated it over and over again, with every visit to her mother's side after the birth of Heicha, had continued to hate it after the quadruplets had shown up (souvenirs from her parents' one and only vacation in Kyoto), and she _still_ hated it.

It reminded her of band-aids, of cuts, bruises, knees skinned against the pavement, splinters hiding with their wicked grinning points in the dark places along the wicker fence, of pain and blood and mothers gone for weeks, weeks at a time without saying good-bye. It was a smell that ate away, siphoned the innocence from one's heart. Especially the heart of a four-year old.

Pudding wasn't sure whether it was the hand of a nurse she'd held onto that day; she _knew_ it wasn't the rough, calloused hand of her father, worn from pushing himself through the rigorous training routine that pushed his family further and further away. Perhaps it wasn't a hand she had held onto. Perhaps she had walked alone, as she always had.

At any rate, she remembered the shiny white tiles, the excruciatingly bright fluorescent overhead lights dancing on the impeccably clean windows, the deplorable smell of antiseptic burning her nostrils.

She remembered what she'd been wearing, only because of her shoes; red plastic sandals with white flowers positioned over the toes. They were new, so freshly manufactured that they squeaked against the white tiles, squeak, squeak. Breaking the silence that she hated as well. It was always silent in the hospital, silence reeking of tears in the closet during a thunderstorm, your siblings all huddled beneath your chin. Or death, which was something she didn't know about.

She remembered the door sliding open, also silent, unlike the doors at home, which also squeaked, creaking open. Squeak, squeak, squeak, over to the bed, as she had many times before. Although she'd never seen her mother so quiet and reserved; Jia-Li Fong and silence were not compatible words. Pudding had vague memories of Heicha screaming in the background while her mother simultaneously screamed for Guangdong dumplings and pain medication.

She was beautiful, she did remember that; her hair was the color of sunbeams, highlighting her normally rosy complexion...now paled. She'd squeaked over to the bed, with its clean white sheets (everything was white, white like nothing), peering up into her mother's once radiant face. Even hospital-white, she was still stunning.

"Ma?"

A frail, fragile hand rested lightly on her cheek, its strength now absent. "Pudding." Even in her lifeless tone, she could sense the twinge of happiness there. "Pudding, I need you to-"

"Ma, how come you're always _here_?" She remembered placing her tiny hands on her nonexistent hips, her voice taking on a scolding tone. "Ma, do you _know_ what Heicha did yesterday? Do you even _know_, Ma? She bit me, Ma, and she only has ONE tooth."

She remembered the light returning to shine faintly in her mother's face as the woman chuckled slightly. "Ma, that's not funny!"

"Pudding, how badly could she have hurt you with only one tooth?"

"Have you ever been bitten with one tooth?"

"I remember a certain someone I've known for some time biting me with _eight_ teeth. I wonder who that someone was..."

"Hmph." She clambered atop the hospital bed, sitting cross-legged on the sheets. "It couldn't have been _me_," she'd replied haughtily, her nose in the air. "I do not go around biting people who don't deserve it!"

Jia-Li had sat up, then, color once again dyeing her cheeks a light rosy pink. Pudding remembered hugging her mother then, biting her lip to hold in the tears of bitterness, her voice betraying her as she whispered, "She wouldn't bite me, if you were there. When you're with us, everything's okay, Ma. When are you coming home?"

Her mother hadn't answered, remaining silent. Pudding sat back then, confused; her mother's face had begun to wither again, as if her voice had drained the only energy she had left. "Ma, when are you coming home?"

Jia sighed, taking her eldest daughter's face in her hands, smiling sadly. "Pudding, I never want to see you cry."

"Why would I cry?" She remembered tears beginning to well up in her eyes.

"Tears...anger...sadness..." Jia-Li had sounded wistful as she spoke. "These things make the sun go down before it's time. They shorten your life Pudding, cause the night to take you away."

"That's lonely," Pudding remembered commenting through her tears.

"It _is_ lonely. That's why...I want you to chase your tears away with your smile." Jia had leaned over to plant a kiss on her forehead, her lips against Pudding's skin the soft brush of rose petals. "Always smile for me, so you can hold your sister's hand when I can't. So you can hold your brothers' hands for me."

"Why won't you be able to? Where are you going?"

"Promise me."

"No! Ma, what's wrong? Where are you going?"

"Pudding..."

"I PROMISE, OKAY?" She remembered shouting then, weeks of loneliness and fear boiling over. "Just tell me where you're going, Ma! I won't tell Heicha, or Chincha and Lucha, and Hanacha and Honcha, or Dad or anyone but please tell me! Where are you going?"

She remembered that her mother had never answered.

And, although she hated it, whenever Pudding thought of her mother, the unmistakably caustic aroma of antiseptic burned her nose.

* * *

"Because I promised," she whispered, in-between coughs. "That's why I have to."

Pudding wiped the tears of exertion from her eyes with the back of her hand, still coughing...yet forcing herself to rise to her feet, slowly inching her way towards the ladder. She wasn't sure how sure would make it. But she knew she would.

She wasn't prepared for what happened next, gasping as she suddenly found herself suspended in midair, a pair of arms wrapped around her waist. "Tart?" she cried in surprise, glancing upward at the alien's somewhat disturbing smile (once again, replete with two tiny fangs that seemed to make his grin appear all the more sadistic.)

Tart shot upwards, gracefully sailing over the edge with Pudding in tow. He paused over the racing headlights of passing cars below, holding Pudding out in front of his body with her head tilted downwards, facing the traffic. Pudding's eyes widened.

"Tar Tar..."

"You know what, monkey girl?" Tart sounded utterly gleeful. "I could just drop you, right now, and you know what would happen?"

Pudding sighed, dismally. "I'd be a splat roadwaffle."

"Exactly."

"It's not nice to throw your friends off buildings into Tokyo rush hour traffic, Tar Tar."

Tart still sounded cheerful, as if the whole situation was amusing; under different circumstances, Pudding might have also found his empty threats worthy of cynical commentary, but the way the cars were speeding underneath, racing and melting into a sea of red and yellow lights that danced wildly and did funny things to her eyes...was making her rather queasy. "I never said we were friends." Pudding gasped again as he released his grip on her waist, leaving her to tumble through the swirling twilight air before she could even attempt to force out a terrified scream...

...only to swoop down below her in almost as swiftly as he'd let go, grabbing hold of her flailing wrists. Pudding frantically wrapped her arms around his neck, hanging on for dear life as Tart let out a wild hoot of elation and took off, gliding across the darkening sky at a speed that made Pudding's stomach turn.

It also made her heart race.

"I'm not into roadkill!" Tart shouted happily, banking rapidly and causing Pudding to shriek.

"You're crazy!" she hissed, shutting her eyes tightly; Tart had decided to descend, the ground rushing up to meet them, followed by the sudden shift in visual perspective of ascension. "Tar Tar, you're crazier than Mint looks when Ryou actually makes her work for a change, and that's reaallly crazy!"

"Hm. I guess you'll just have to hold on tight, won't you?" Tart replied with a smirk, dipping again and drawing another shriek from Pudding, although this time the sentiment behind the exclamation was undeniably excitement in spite of her ailment.

Tart's laughter (more of a mad cackle) rang out above the rooftops, mingling with Pudding's shrieks and creating a very strange cacophony that only the two of them could hear.

* * *

I hadn't planned on stopping it there, but that's how it happened. It just occurred to me that this is a LONG fanfic. And it's emo! Oh, well, if I'm driving you insane you have to complain and tell me or else I'll continue to be too dense to grasp the concept. More discrepancies than last time, folks! The formatting is different because the QuickEdit mode is giving me a ton of trouble.

The pairings mentioned here were inspired by those used in Cooking Spray's 'Petit Fours'. I hope you don't mind, CS!

'Jia-Li' is Chinese, meaning 'beautiful.' Parents never have names in manga or anime, dude. I got it from someone's baby names site, although I can't tell you where because, once again,the damn QuickEdit mode is on the blink today and it won't let me use any url. Argh. Also, I've read enough of Amy Tan to know that Chinese children address their mothers as 'Ma'. That is not the South coming out of me, y'hear? I found the info on Pudding's family on the animespoilers site; the episode is 20, and I haven't seen it, so I did some major shuffling with the summary and the info. I stopped believing everything I saw on the net after an ill-fated D.N. Angel fanfic that is hopefully resting in peace.

I do not know of _any_ elementary schools that provide daycare service. We'll just pretend this is the utopian area of Tokyo.

I'm sorry if Pudding seems somewhat OOC...but I needed her to act seriously, which you only get a relatively small amount of exposure to in the manga. And no, I have no idea what's going on with Tart at this point. It's writing itself, folks.

That's it for chapitre 7, merci! See you in chapter 8 when these two make up their minds about where they're planning to take this fic! By the way, please ignore any grammatical errors. This fic _killed_ my spellcheck. : )


	8. Denial

A.N.: Well, I know you guys think I died. I'm so sorry for the delays -- college is harder than I expected it to be; my first semester didn't go so well, what with insane classes and roommate issues...:sigh:. This is the first fanfic I really put my heart into, and I feel bad for just abandoning it. With all the drama, though, I wasn't sure I could write to my fullest potential (sign on back reads: kick the perfectionist, win an XBox 360). I'm not sure this chapter measures up to the others, so please let me know if I got too dramatic or went OCC -- it's hard to do either Pudding or Tart in serious light without it being OCC. At any rate, this chapter is dedicated to everyone who's continued reading and waiting for me to update -- your support plays a big part in urging me to finish it, and it brightens my day -- thank you! 

There's going to be a very big change in the 'third-person limited' aspect of the story by the end of this chapter, and while I won't give away any specifics just yet, I can tell you that it's actually going to be limited to one character for awhile. I'm at the crossroads where I could make it wretchedly depressing at the end or give everybody the happy ending they seem to desire, so more than likely I'll go with the popular demand and have a cheery outcome -- anyway, this pairing is so cute that I can't bring myself to be too angsty with them.

As for this chapter, more fluffiness involving Tart and Pudding's mothers, both of which I'm abusing the literary license with because there's just no legitimate information out there to go on -- damn you for these plotholes, Ikumi and Yoshida!

Disclaimer: I own nothing but the clothes on my back...and a laptop. Please don't sue me or else I will end up on the street, and no one wants that, do they?

* * *

The thing about carrying girls (Tart wasn't sure whether his conclusion was accurate or not, considering that his experience in the matter was limited to one specific girl, unlike Kish, who'd been popular among the other gender for as long as Tart could remember) was that it was tiring, especially when the destination to which the girl in question was being transported was almost completely unclear, the directions of a dubious nature at most.

The situation descended further given the fact that he couldn't exactly tell her she had to disembark before she ended up giving him permanent back problems and walk the rest of the way, because he had a feeling a good fifteen paces would do her in for good.

Whether she wanted to admit it or not, Pudding was rather heavy in spite of her lithe frame, and Tart was very seriously beginning to consider simply crashing and getting it over with. He couldn't feel guilty if they both were unconscious/exanimate, now could he?

At that moment Pudding leaned over to vomit out of the 'car' window, and Tart felt very, very grateful that she'd seemingly exhausted everything remaining on her stomach and was merely dry heaving. It did nothing to lessen his guilt any.

Pudding moaned. She felt awful.

Well, awful wasn't the best term for it, the lightheaded, fuzzy pain that had enveloped her and the nausea that had turned Tart's haphazard jet-path across the Tokyo skyline into hell (the ground below, which she was doing her best to avoid looking down at, had become a swirling soup of lights that made her even dizzier). Crap was a much better word. Yes. She felt like crap. Pudding wasn't exactly sure what the word meant, but Ichigo used it so much during times of duress that she had a good idea as to its definition.

Even worse was the fact that she still had to fulfill her sisterly duties after Tart dropped her off, mainly throwing together a meal in the half an hour she had left until her siblings returned, starving (as they always claimed to be.) Maybe she'd simply open the refrigerator and let them go at it like the savages they were when it came to food. It would mean more of a mess for her to deal with in the morning, but at least she'd be capable of moving without her stomach twisting inside out. The little girl allowed her eyes to close wearily, unconsciously nuzzling into the chocolate-tinted hair above Tart's neck.

"Don't go to sleep, monkey girl." Tart snapped, making a poor attempt to mask his unwarranted irritation.

"You're a meanie," Pudding muttered darkly; it was amazing how swiftly their flawless relationship had descended into a mess of tension and near animosity.

"If I was a meanie," Tart responded in a sing-song voice, "I'd make you walk home."

"And then you'd go jail for involuntary homicide!" Pudding shot back, the sudden flash of anger giving her the strength to sit up. She fought against the childish urge to pull one of Tart's short, spiky ponytails.

Tart was quiet for a few seconds, then asked, a little too sweetly, "Don't you mean involuntary manslaughter?"

"How do you know so much about it?"

"I watch TV, you moron!"

"Well, so do I, but that doesn't mean I know the official word for every crime possible in the Tokyo underworld!" Pudding screeched, in spite of her sore throat.

"That's only because I've committed half of them already." Tart replied proudly. Pudding rolled her eyes.

"And how many people have you killed, Tar Tar?"

Tart seemed taken aback. "Er..."

"Well?"

"Lots of people." Tart stated airily, a twinge of arrogance in his tone. "I kill people all the time."

"Right. Of course you do."

"Yeah, I do!" Tart shot back, apparently offended by the damage to his (fictitious) image.

"Then why aren't you in jail with all the bad people already?" Pudding queried innocently.

"'Cause every time I go do something you guys show up and ruin it!" Tart regretted the words as soon as they'd left his mouth -- calling attention to their ingrained rivalry was no way to spend what had to be (he had made this decision before, but now he planned to hold true to it...another conclusion he'd reached before) their last escapade together as, if not friends, semi-enemies forced into a temporary companionship. He seriously hoped he hadn't offended Pudding too badly -- he wanted his last memories of her to truly represent her carefree, optimistic personality, a ray of light in the darkness that was swiftly converging around and invading the pieces of his life.

But whether Pudding grew angry at his revelation or not, the truth remained that her status as a Mew Mew drove a huge rift in-between them.

Pudding didn't respond, maintaining a contemplative silence. When she did speak again, her voice was soft, a confused quality now present within her tone. "Do you really hate humans that much, Tar Tar?"

Tart glanced over his shoulder, smiling faintly. "Does it matter?"

"Well...considering, you know..." Pudding paused awkwardly. "I'm kinda human, too."

"Hm." Tart turned around, eyes fixed on the rapidly shifting scenery below him. The landmarks Pudding had defined were almost impossible to make out in the failing light. "You're different," he muttered, nearly inaudibly.

Pudding's ears pricked in interest; there was something else in Tart's voice -- something other than the confusion and denial she'd grown used to. "Not really," she countered. "I'm only a Mew Mew part of the time. I'm human all the time, Tar Tar."

"It's just..." Tart rolled his eyes; why couldn't she just be like other girls and take it for the compliment it was without further question? "You understand...that when your life, and other people's lives, are at stake..." He sighed. "You can't always be a good guy." And you don't hold it against me, he neglected to add. It was obvious, anyway.

"You're not a bad bad guy..." Pudding sounded thoughtful, as if the thought were new to her. "You're kinda like a half bad guy."

"Oh, thanks a lot." Tart replied sarcastically.

"I didn't mean it like that." Pudding sighed. The conversation was seemingly making her head throb even more forcefully. "You're good at being a bad guy, but you're good at being good guy too." She paused momentarily before continuing. "But you don't have to be a bad guy, you know."

"It isn't as if we can just ask for control of your planet and all its resources, Pudding. I can truthfully tell you that that would be the stupidest idea anyone's come up with yet."

"Including that one time you made those mantis bugs big and they ate Ichigo's cellphone?" Pudding asked cheerfully, her hoarse voice faintly tinted with amusement.

Tart groaned. "You just have to keep bringing up things that everyone else has already FORGOTTEN, don't you? And for the record, that wasn't my idea."

Pudding snickered.

"Shut up, monkey girl. You're going to make me sick, too."

"You probably already have it, Tar Tar." The little girl paused to shake off another coughing fit -- those were getting annoying. "Anyway," she said quietly, wiping tears of exertion from her eyes, "Sharing is always an option."

Pudding fell silent, leaving Tart to contemplate the true meaning of her words. Co-existence was something that he'd never considered. But how could you possibly co-exist on an already overcrowded planet...full of people who deserved to be exterminated anyway?

A new thought occurred to him then, one that he'd always banished to the depths of his mind without a second glance in the past. He had no doubt as to whose fault it was that he was embracing it now.

Even with their destructive history, their callous behavior...did the human race really deserve to be wiped from the face of their planet?

Were they all truly deserving of his hatred...or had he been entirely too hasty in writing them off as a lost cause?

Tart shivered slightly, wishing he could shake off the mutinous notions beginning to proliferate in his mind. But that would involve shaking off a certain monkey-tailed, loud-mouthed package he'd taken responsibility for...and Tart wasn't ready to let go. Not yet.

The rest of the journey was completed in utter silence, broken only by Pudding's frequent dry, rasping coughing fits.

And the pounding of Tart's heart, which was getting much too loud for his own good.

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

"We're here." Tart sighed with relief as his feet sunk into the thick grass lining Pudding's lawn. Pudding's only response was a soft murmur of protest -- in spite of Tart's requests to the contrary, she'd fallen asleep.

"Wake up, monkey girl." Tart snapped in annoyance, reaching back to poke her. He was entirely too tired to drag her to the front door (he knew he'd have a hell of a backache the next day), but some small, nagging portion of his heart wouldn't allow him to just drop her in the grass and leave her there. "WAKE UP AND GET OFF!"

Pudding yawned, dimly peering over his shoulder, muttering dazedly. "Wha...? I already had sixteen cookies, Ichigo. I'm too not hungry to eat anymore..."

Tart blinked. "Huh?"

"...you only want me to eat it because you burned it, don't you?" Pudding sighed, still half-asleep. "Okay, okay, I'll eat it. Just stop screaming."

"Eat what?" Tart frowned in confusion. It wasn't unusual for the girl to make no sense whatsoever, but it was becoming a little too unnerving for him.

Pudding responded by sinking her teeth into the flesh of his pointed ear (or a partially burnt Heath bar cookie with double chocolate chips, from her perspective.)

Tart shrieked, jerking away from her. Pudding's eyes snapped open as she lost her grip on his shoulders, landing with an equally piercing shriek on her rear end. "Ow!" Pudding leapt to her feet, illness momentarily overshadowed by the jolt of pain. "What did you do that for, Tar Tar?"

Tart glared at her. "Because being mistaken for a cookie is a really crappy form of payment for lugging you home," he growled in a low, exhaustion-tainted tone.

"Oh, we're here already?" Pudding's anger receded as swiftly as it had flared; the girl threw her arms around his midsection, catching him in an extremely tight bear hug. "Thank you!"

It was utterly hopeless to even attempt to remain annoyed at the girl -- Tart glanced heavenward, rolling his eyes. Not only was he going to be very, very sore when he woke up in the morning, but he had to wonder how much psychological damage he'd sustained. "You know...I kinda have to breathe, Pudding," he sighed wearily -- Pudding let go after realizing that the alien's face was taking on the slightest shade of blue. She was surprised at how patient he was being.

"Oh, I'm sorry!" she chirped, stepping back to allow Tart to catch his breath. The alien collapsed backwards into the grass, closing his eyes. "Next time I'm charging you," he stated firmly, wincing as the pangs emanating from the wound on his lower back started up again. Maybe it had been aching all along, even with Pudding slung over his shoulders, but the importance of getting her home had overridden the pain then.

Pudding resisted the urge to flop down beside him -- she'd felt the same sense of elation upon first being inducted into the Mew Mew ranks (simultaneously saving Ichigo's life, something the older girl didn't seem to remember) as she did then, and it seemed that entering the house would only send her lonely reality crashing back down. Besides, she still felt terrible.

But she had her responsibilities, and given the events of the day it would have seemed entirely too pointless to shirk them now. She sighed, smiling apologetically. "I have to go, Tar Tar. My brothers and sister will be home soon and they'll tear the house apart if I don't fix them something for dinner." Which would probably be peanut butter and banana sandwiches, after all.

Tart stared up at her from his nest in the thick blades of grass. "Okay," he said, simply -- he was beginning to feel the uncomfortable twinges of guilt again, and was actually thrilled that their misadventure/his act of treason were at an end.

Pudding frowned, seemingly put out by his attitude, but didn't voice her displeasure. "Um...I kinda need my groceries back."

Tart grinned infuriatingly. "I think I'm going to keep them, monkey girl."

"Tar Tar! Do you want to be responsible for the starvation of a family stuck in the endless cycle of poverty?" Pudding assumed her speech pose, her voice taking on the syrupily persuasive tone of a corrupt politician. "It's a two-tier system, buddy! The economy here in Japan's going down faster than the Hindenburg! Soon the price of a single piece of nigiri will be more than an arm, a leg, and a spl...the word is spleen, right?"

"I don't know," Tart shrugged.

Pudding raised an eyebrow in disbelief. "You do have one, right?"

"Probably not."

"Oh." Pudding paused. "What was I talking about?"

"I'm probably not the best person to ask." Pudding's bag of groceries materialized before her with a flick of Tart's wrist.

"Thank you, Ta-" The girl cried happily, leaning forward to hug the alien once again. Tart shifted to the side swiftly, much to her surprise. Pudding started to protest, then caught herself as their eyes met, the silent communication saying all that needed to be said. "Okay. Um...I guess I'll see you next time you guys decide to go on a homicidal rampage in downtown Tokyo." She smiled in her prolific manner, retrieving her bags and turning to walk away. Tart said nothing, lost in his thoughts, although he did sit up to watch her go. 'It's better this way. No drawn out good-byes. No attachments.'

Pudding stopped halfway up the stairs, coughing violently again before looking back over her shoulder. "Hey, you got hurt helping me, didn't you?"

Tart shook his head airily. "Nothing I can't handle, monkey girl." The waves of pain emanating from the gash in his lower back said otherwise, but he planned to stick to his decision. No drawn out good-byes, no attachments. Keep walking. Leave.

"Are you sure?" Pudding looked concerned. "I have band-aids and stuff."

"I'm FINE, Pud...monkey girl. Go away."

-------------------------------------------------------------------------

"You," Tart muttered to himself, "have the conviction of a Jen'an Toun'x addict." It was one of Pie's favorite lines to use on Kish and himself whenever they didn't follow through on an order or pointed out, in a casual manner, the futility of one of his less intelligent schemes.

It did a pretty good job of explaining why he was standing in Pudding's living room not more than five minutes after deciding he was through with the girl and that the next time he saw her would probably be the last, in the heat of the rapidly approaching 'winner-take-all' battle that was inevitable, at this point, to avoid. It also said a great deal about his willpower, and it wasn't exactly a good great deal, either.

The girl responsible for whatever entrancement had been cast upon him continued on into the kitchen, lugging her bulging grocery bags behind her. "I'll be back in a sec!" Pudding said brightly, the door closing behind her, leaving Tart standing aimlessly in the middle of the living room. The young alien sighed hopelessly. Shaking Pudding off was proving to be a fruitless venture -- what made it worse was that he'd initiated it. Still, he couldn't have just left her on the rooftop coughing whatever her internal organs were up.

He knew he should have. Pie would have. Kish would have -- at least he would, if it weren't Ichigo. Tart hung his head. Indecision was even worse than betrayal.

He looked up, taking in the room around him -- which was surprisingly very clean. The carpet (which was white, one of the worst ideas Tart had come across in a long time) was unstained, soft and welcoming underneath his tired feet. The furniture (a sofa and a few chairs, a glass top table that had through some miracle not met a bitter end) was all but sparkling; he could see his reflection in the glass pane of the table, disheveled and looking much like he'd been dragged halfway across Tokyo. Save for a few stray toys in the corner and the occasional cast-off article of clothing, there were no effects of the inhabitants of the house, neither Pudding nor her mysterious slew of siblings she claimed to have. It was strange; Tart would've expected the interior of Pudding's house to be as scattered and flyway as she was, not neat and tidy. Then again, he was pretty sure her parents took care of that aspect of the house, wherever they were. Parents. It was a foreign concept to Tart, the presence of two parental figures. He would have been perfectly fine with just one.

Tart snorted at the thought, walking over to the mantelpiece, which seemed to be the only cluttered area of the living room, and the wall around it. The counter was literally covered in picture frames, as was the wall, housing photos of Pudding, her family, and quite a few of the other Mew Mews. He looked at these with interest -- pictures were an oddity to him. It wasn't that printed memoirs were unheard of for his race; technology-wise, Tart was certain that they could match the humans' advancement for advancement if given the chance. More, there was the lack of time and resources to devote to entertainment, the way humans could. Television programming was something he'd have to wean himself off of at some point. Then again, maybe not ALL human implements had to go after Deep Blue's scourge.

He turned his attention back to the canned memories before him. There were family photos, Pudding, five nearly identical children who were obviously much younger than she was, and two adult humans that were probably her parents; Pudding cheered from the arms of a woman with long blonde hair, her siblings draped over a man with hazel eyes and a crop of short, dusty blonde hair standing beside her; the picture sent a queer tingle through the pit of Tart's stomach. He didn't realize that it was envy. There were many singular pictures of Pudding's siblings, quite a few of her parents together, and one of her mother alone, sitting among a sea of sunflowers, the wind blowing her hair behind her. There were a couple of Pudding, her siblings, and her father by themselves, although Pudding wasn't smiling in any of them. Of much more interest were the photos of the 'Tokyo Zoo Crew'; the girls at the beach, lounging (Pudding, of course, was hanging from something and shrieking); a group trip to what looked like the park, Ichigo and Mint fighting in the background while Pudding poked a stick into a beehive; Lettuce and Pudding at the playground, Zakuro in a fashion show, the Mew Mews in everyday apparel merely enjoying life, and those were the ones that bothered him the most. As much as he wanted to think of the girls as lurking monsters with nothing on their minds save for the destruction of Tart, Kish, and Pie's schemes, he knew from just interacting with Pudding as he did that they were just normal girls, a group of kids fighting to live in the same manner that he and his teammates were. Tart shook his head to clear the thought. He knew from enough action movies that the second you started fraternizing and sympathizing with the enemy, you were washed up, either at the enemy's hands or those of your boss.

He jumped as the door squeaked open, Pudding returning with a handful of medical supplies, including a pair of scissors. Tart decided not to ask. "Can you hurry it up, monkey girl? I've got to get going eventually so I can let Kish and Pie know how badly I failed," he remarked snidely. Pudding gave him a meaningful look as she dumped the supplies on the rug, glancing conspicuously at the scissors. Tart shut up.

"I brought band-aids and stingy stuff and this cream stuff Mom says makes everything heal faster," Pudding said, removing the items from the pile. "Um...you kinda have to show me where it is?"

Tart couldn't resist, grabbing the hem of his shirt and beginning to yank it over his head. "You mean you want me to lose the clothing ALREADY?" He had the satisfaction of Pudding turning beet red, burying her face in her hands. "You're an ecchi jerk, Tar Tar!" she cried.

"I'm kidding, dummy," Tart stuck his tongue out at her, rolling up his shirt to expose the wound on his back. "I don't like you THAT much."

Pudding returned the raspberry, inspecting the gash with a low whistle. "Wow, this is like the time Kish tried to kill me and Ichigo at the zoo and I skinned my knee and it bled all over the place and Ichigo almost puked because there was so much blood and there was gravel in it and..."

"Thanks for sharing, Pudding." Tart rolled his eyes. Then realized his mistake. "I mean monkey girl."

Pudding grinned knowingly, uncapping the disinfectant and swabbing it on the wound. Tart flinched, although he'd sustained much more serious injuries before. It still hurt pretty badly, though. To take his mind off the stinging he glanced back over at the pictures idly. "Your parents aren't going to call the cops or anything if they find me here, are they?" he asked offhandedly, suddenly realizing that he was not prepared to try to explain his appearance to an enraged parent upon discovery.

The girl paused momentarily, then resumed swabbing as if the interruption had never occurred. "Oh, it's just me and my sister and brothers. Dad's training in the mountains back in China and Mom's..." she paused again, then continued, her voice completely blank and unreadable. "I don't have a mom anymore. She died when I was really little. So we're safe, I think."

"...oh." Tart fell silent. He hadn't even considered the possibility that she'd be on her own, as well. The knowledge sparked a feeling of comradeship that he hadn't allowed himself before when they were trapped in the shed on the roof. Maybe the girl wasn't as immature as she appeared to be. Then again, she was a Mew Mew, after all.

Pudding worked in silence for a few minutes before Tart spoke again, sounding rather subdued. "It's okay, I don't either."

"Really?"

"No."

Pudding unwrapped a bandage, coating the pad with the cream before placing it over the wound. "I'm sorry," she said sincerely. "What happened? You don't have to tell me."

"It's okay." Tart stood up, smoothing down his clothes. "She died back on our planet before we left. I don't know what happened to her. She went out in the desert looking for something one morning and she never came back. I guess something got her...or...you know."

Pudding stared at the carpet, listening intently. She'd never heard the alien sound as serious as he did then; it seemed they'd reached a temporary unspoken truce, and now neither her Mew Mew status nor their rivalry mattered. "She wanted to see what Earth looked like, because she thought it would be beautiful," Tart continued, not quite sure why he was telling her any of this but unable to stop. It was as if he'd uncovered the pain he'd hidden since they'd started their mission, to find that he hadn't forgotten and gotten over it all the way he was certain he should have. "I...promised her she could see, that I'd make sure that we did our job so she could come live here, once we took over. But she disappeared before we even left for Earth, and..." he trailed off. "So I can't keep that promise anymore."

"If you didn't...if you don't know she died," Pudding stumbled over the words, suddenly unsure of herself, "...then maybe there's the chance she could come back. Or she got lost, and she's living somewhere else." She hoped she sounded as hopeful as she'd intended.

Tart laughed, a harsh, bitter sound that sounded out of place on him. It made Pudding flinch. "She won't."

Pudding looked up at him with something that Tart couldn't stand -- pity. He felt a momentary flare of annoyance. "It's not like I need her, or anything," he snapped. "I can take care of myself. And she shouldn't have gone out there without taking someone with her anyway." He looked down at Pudding, whose countenance had taken on an even greater shade of sympathy, and growled, turning away. "It's her own fault she's gone. Whatever."

At that point Pudding rose to her feet and walked over to him, her forehead pressing into his shoulder blades as she wrapped her arms around his chest from behind, catching him in another spontaneous hug. Tart reached up to push her away, to scream at her to leave him alone and get out of his head before she completely ruined everything he'd...they'd been working toward...and found he couldn't. He stood frozen in place, arms at his sides, barely breathing. Pudding's voice was muffled as she spoke, quietly. "It's okay to miss her, you know. You still have a heart, Tar Tar."

"I'm not supposed to," Tart replied, equally somber. "I'm not supposed to be here with you, and I'm not supposed to care what happens to you, and I'm not supposed to miss her. I have a job to do."

"But you do."

"Duh, monkey girl."

Pudding tightened her grip; Tart didn't have the presence of mind to protest. "I bet...I know she's proud of you for working so hard for everyone."

"...she's dead, Pudding. Gone. And whether I miss her or not she's not coming back." Tart sighed.

Pudding let go, then, stepping back. She swallowed, remembering what her father had said about her own mother, so long ago. "No, she isn't. When people leave us as long as they stay in our memories they never go away. They always stay with you, watching over you and hoping you'll always remember them." She paused to sniffle a little herself, continuing cheerfully, "And your mom and my mom are probably watching us now and wondering why they had lazy children who don't cook dinner on time and end up shutting downtown Tokyo down by accident."

"...actually, it was intentional."

"Oh, yeah!" Pudding rubbed the back of her head idly. "I forgot again."

Tart mumbled something incoherent. Pudding leaned forward. "Huh?"

"I said," Tart muttered, refusing to meet her gaze, "She's still on our planet. She can't be watching over me here because she never got to see Earth, remember?"

Pudding paused. Her face suddenly brightened as an idea popped into her head -- Tart would probably find it completely stupid, but she'd had her siblings do it the second they got to Tokyo, if only to comfort them. "Maybe she can see Earth, after all."

"...what are you rambling about now?" Tart was beginning to sound exasperated.

"Do you have anything of hers that you brought with you? From your planet?" Pudding asked, crossing her fingers. Tart didn't respond for a moment, then held out his hand, a small silver bracelet with red stones lining it materializing on his palm. "That's pretty." Pudding commented.

"My father gave it to her." Tart shook his head sadly. Far too many of his memories weren't worth remembering anyway.

"This should work." Pudding grabbed Tart's hand and took off, driven by a sudden burst of determination, dragging him behind her -- Tart didn't have the chance (nor the inclination) to protest as she pulled him towards the kitchen door.

-----------------

The house itself might have been rather old, but the small backyard behind it was obviously well-loved and often attended to, either by Pudding herself or her siblings. Pudding dashed across the springy grass with Tart in tow at a speed that seemed to belie her illness. The young alien found himself struggling to keep up, while attempting to survey his surroundings at the same time. The twilight was beginning to fade into velvety darkness, the sky already teeming with brilliantly glittering stars, a brightly glowing moon shining alongside them. The yard smelled wonderful, a hazy aroma of late spring wildflowers, sunflowers, and several oddly placed rosebushes blending together and floating upon the cool night breeze. Tart noticed a copious amount of paper lanterns aligning the branches of trees, and hanging along the eaves of the house. They were unlit, but he had a feeling that they'd probably flood the entire backyard with soft candlelight if they were.

Pudding let go of his hand, darting towards a small ornate shrine towards the back of the yard, surrounded by a bed of golden sunflowers. Dangling from the shrine's roof were two tiny basins filled with some sort of oil; atop the altar Tart could see a couple of jeweled hairpins, a couple of assorted photographs, all of the woman he'd seen on the mantle (Pudding's mother), and a great deal of wooden tags hanging along the sides of the altar, engraved with Chinese script. Pudding seemed lost in though, contemplating the altar silently for a long moment while Tart fidgeted uncomfortably. He'd already spilled far too much of his secrets that day, and the current subject in question (his mother) was a touchy subject as it was.

He was considering sneaking off while the girl was still in her trance when Pudding snapped back into action, pulling a match from her pocket. "Almost ready," she chirped, swiping the match across the rung of one of the chain links from which a basin of oil was suspended, lighting both basins in one quick motion that surprised Tart even more than learning that the girl was responsible for herself. He hadn't expected her to be capable of being quiet for more than five minutes, much less lighting a match without setting the entire yard on fire.

Pudding sank to her knees, kneeling before the shrine with her head bowed. She muttered a few Chinese phrases in a reverent tone, then stood up once again, stepping back to stand beside Tart. "Dad wanted Mom to be buried back in China, before we came to Tokyo," she said, her serious countenance completely uncharacteristic of her normal cheerful demeanor. "I wanted her to be here, so I could go talk to her everyday like nothing had changed when she was gone. Where I come from, though, they build little shrines like this to the person who leaves so even when they're so far away, you can still speak to them without having to visit their grave. So me and Honcha and Heicha and Hanacha and Lucha and Chincha made this one until we can go see Mom in China again."

Tart didn't say anything. His race had their own ways of remembering the departed, although they weren't nearly as elaborate. Large funerals, as he, Kish, and Pie had witnessed on Earth, were almost unheard of -- they favored smaller, simpler memorial services, and graves were also a social faux-pas. Most of his kind were cremated (when there was a body to be found) in order to save space; their subterranean dwellings were small and cramped enough without a large amount of gravesites taking up room and reminding everyone of how much they'd lost.

"I don't think Mom will mind sharing with your mom." Pudding reached over and seized the bracelet Tart was clutching, eliciting a yelp of "Be careful with that, monkey girl!" from the alien.

Pudding fell forward onto her knees again and crawled through the grass over to the altar. "What are you doing?" Tart asked warily, even more unsure than before. Pudding didn't answer, shifting the items in the altar around with a great deal of concentration. She leaned back on her heels a few minutes later, allowing Tart to see what she'd done.

The articles belonging to her mother had been shifted to the side, and his mother's bracelet hung from a peg, alongside a single wooden tag. "What does that say?"

Pudding smiled. "Chiyo. It means 'forever'."

Tart opened his mouth to denounce the idiocy of the tradition, the overly apparent childishness of her actions...and found that he had no desire to. He knew Pudding missed her mother just as much as he did his own, and she was merely coping with it the best way she knew how -- by being optimistic as ever. It made more sense than how he'd reacted -- with disbelief, to pretend that nothing had happened, because it had. His mother was gone, and he missed her, wanting nothing more than to be able to fulfill his promise to her. Ignoring the scars lining his heart wasn't strength -- it was merely denial, running away from a situation, the way he always did, when losing a battle (be it with that witch Ichigo, or with Pudding's smile). It took more strength to do as Pudding did, accepting it and dealing with it, instead of denying the way she felt. For the first time in a while Tart was suddenly aware of his own weakness, which went beyond physical tenacity. He stood unspeaking, unable to voice what he knew he had to say -- to both Pudding and his mother.

"Now you can talk to your mom and tell her how pretty Earth is." Pudding stated cheerfully, breaking the silence. Tart was lost in his thoughts, and didn't appear to be aware of her existence any longer. Sensing that he probably wanted his solitude at the moment, Pudding patted his shoulder lightly, heading back towards the house. She DID still have to knock up something for dinner, and her activity seemed to have made her headache worse. Funny, she hadn't been as aware of it while she was with Tart. She shook her head to clear it with a sigh. If only her siblings were capable of cooking for themselves without the stove going up in flames the way it had the last time Heicha had had the brilliant idea to fix hot chocolate. It was amusing in retrospective, but after crows, the flu, and a whirlwind 'like' affair the last thing Pudding needed was the fire department sprawled across the front lawn.

She stopped to cough again at the back door, wincing -- her throat felt as if it were lined with shards of glass -- and then paused, a coppery taste on her tongue. Pudding opened her mouth slightly, placing a fingertip against her tongue and removing it to examine it. Even in the dim light of the backyard she could tell that the tip of her finger was covered in blood. That was strange, she thought. She didn't remember biting her tongue. Or maybe she'd lost another tooth and swallowed it -- in her constant excitement Pudding had a habit of knocking out lose teeth by accident and not remembering to retrieve the tooth before shouting about her accomplishment. She entered the kitchen, feeling quite light-headed, and headed for the sink.

Reaching for a glass, Pudding filled it with water, taking a gulp and swishing it around before spitting the mouthful out into the sink. No tooth, meaning she must have swallowed it. She groaned -- she was almost 100 certain teeth were not meant to be consumed. Another coughing fit broke through her reverie, this one perhaps the worst so far -- the girl felt as if her spine would shatter from the force of the hacking, her eyes teary with exertion.

The fit lasted nearly a minute, after which Pudding sank to the kitchen floor dizzily. She was also certain that the tiles were NOT supposed to be shifting, like the beads of a kaleidoscope, and swirling in a manner that was almost lewd. She held up the hand with which she'd covered her mouth while coughing, absently noticing that her palm was streaked with the same red substance that had coated her fingertip. That was another thing she felt quite certain of -- coughing up blood was probably a fairly bad sign.

----------------------------

A few fireflies droned lethargically along the bushes lining the yard. Tart knelt in front of the altar, the way he'd witnessed Pudding doing so earlier.

He wasn't sure exactly what the protocol was for holding a conversation with a deceased relative supposedly being channeled through an old bracelet. Of all the things that Pie had advised Kish and himself on in the earlier days of their mission, semi-séances were not among the information that had been doled out at the time. That was a shame, as he needed all the coaching he could get. Pudding had also deserted him, probably intending to give him his privacy, but Tart would have greatly appreciated her presence. She seemed much more well-versed in emotional matters than he was.

Somewhere in his mind he remembered his initial resolve to quit the scene as soon as possible, to avoid sinking further into guilt than he already was, given that he'd spent all day fraternizing with the enemy. That plan of action had taken the backseat for the moment, though. He had a confession to make first, one that could change everything, and he wasn't going to feel any better until he got it off his chest to SOMEONE who could listen. He figured his mother (or at least her bracelet) was a safe enough target, as, sadly, she wasn't capable of chastising him the way Kish or Pie would. If only he could figure out HOW to go about conversing with her...

Tart sighed, staring at the bracelet dangling from the peg. It had been Sugar's favorite possession (alongside various odds and ends Tart had pieced together or brought home over the years); she'd made a point of never allowing it to leave her wrist unless she was venturing out into the desert. He'd grown up seeing it twinkle on her wrist, a shining gem in a world of dirt and dust. His father had given it to her as a child, she'd told Tart, when inquired as to where it had come from, and his mother had given it to him. Supposedly the red stones set in the bracelet were from Earth, taken as a last memoir when his race had quit the planet so long ago. Staring at it brought back a lot of memories, Tart noted -- holding her hand and toddling alongside her in the cramped city as a baby; the bracelet pressed against his neck when she hugged him, not smelling of stale damp sand, as their home did, but a sweet aroma worthy of her name; grabbing her hand and pulling her into the common room of their house to meet his new friends, a mischievously smirking Kish and a quiet Pie, who was straight-laced and mature even as a child.

"You used to say he needed to loosen up before his face cracked from trying not to laugh when Kish said something stupid." Tart shook his head. "And he was always saying something stupid, or telling us something stupid someone ELSE said. You remember, Mom?"

He realized he had spoken aloud, a slight blush colouring his cheeks. It was silly, talking as if she could actually hear him.

Or was it?

He began to speak again, his voice wavering. "And you remember how happy you were when I told you about Earth, and how we were all going back someday? And how I flew into that shelf and broke all those dishes by accident when I came to tell you we were leaving soon? I'm sorry about that. And for dropping that pot you made. I'm sorry about that too, although Kish is the one who said it would be okay to play ball with it in the first place."

"I...I really wanted you to be able to see Earth, because you've wanted to see it for so long. It's just as pretty as you said it would be. There are flowers all over the place, and water everywhere -- blue water, like you were saying. And the sun isn't scorching like it is back home -- it's nice. It rains a lot, but everything grows really fast afterwards -- and there are cities full of lights and chocolate and really dumb TV shows with people being idiots that are actually really funny. And lots of movies with humans kicking each other in them. Those are fun to watch, too. Oh, and there are LOTS of animals, not Ferrets, but birds and fish and dogs and stuff. They're everywhere, too -- but a lot of them are almost gone now. And it's kinda messy, and there are humans abusing the place all the time, but not all of them are that bad. But they are pretty stupid. I was going to lie and say they aren't, but most of them are. Some are okay, though. I think you would like some of them. And star candies. You can make wishes on them -- that's what the stupid monkey girl says, but she's crazy so you can't believe everything she says."

He paused, taking a breath. "She's not a bad human, though. She's always saying she doesn't want to fight us, and trying to protect everyone without worrying about herself. She's not a conceited jerk like some humans I could mention...and...she's...kinda pretty, too, like a sunflower. And she's always smiling, not matter what's going on. She keeps saying we're friends, even though I've told her to go away about a hundred times, and she NEVER shuts up about things that make absolutely no sense. She talks more than Kish did back before we left. He's really quiet now, because he's worried about Deep Blue, and because he's in love with this stupid human we were supposed to kill a LONG time ago. I think he's insane, Mom. But I'm probably just as crazy as he is because...I think I love Pudding. But I'm not supposed to be, because we're going to have to kill all the humans so we can have the planet again and everyone can come live on Earth. I'm not a traitor, because if I'm traitor that means Kish is traitor too and Pie's a traitor for not turning us in and if that's the case then this whole mission is really screwed up right now. But I like her a lot, and...yeah." Tart felt his cheeks aflame, hoping Pudding was still in the house and that she hadn't heard any of his confession. He was still in shock that he'd had the courage to come out and say it. He wondered what Kish would have had to say.

"I miss you, Mom. I'm sorry I couldn't keep my promise to you. But I...I'll do my hardest so everyone else can be happy, even though we don't know where Deep Blue is, and I...I don't think we should kill all the humans simply to take their planet. Pudding keeps saying there's another way, other than fighting...and I'm going to try to find it, Mom, so no one has to die anymore. Life is precious, even if it is that of stupid, useless humans...and I don't think we should have to have so many people die so we can be happy. So maybe I am a traitor after all. I don't know. But I do miss you, every day, and I hope you're happy wherever you are now. You should try to visit Earth, if you can...you'd like it. I love you."

The young alien stood up, wiping the tears from his cheeks -- he hadn't noticed he was crying until the first crystal drops had landed on his hands where he knelt. He felt purged of something that had been haunting him for a very, very long time. He wondered whether, by some twist of fate, Pudding had been right -- maybe she had been able to hear him, somehow. His understanding of the afterlife wasn't that clear, and he wasn't sure whether it was a possibility that her spirit, wherever it was, was even aware of his existence any longer...but he liked to think, as Pudding had said, that as long as he remembered her, she was watching over him, and smiling the way she always did.

Tart brushed the soil from his shorts, his jaw set in determination. He knew what he had to do, to break the cycle of denial he'd trapped himself into from refusing to admit the truth the minute it had become apparent to him. He'd have to tell Pudding, and figure out what to do from there. Maybe it was possible that they could co-exist -- he didn't think anyone other than Pudding had considered the possibility. Of course, it wasn't that simple -- humanity wouldn't take kindly to an alien race suddenly deciding to become its next door neighbor. But it wasn't an impossibility...and the Mew Aqua's existence provided even more options. Tart felt a rush of giddiness. For the first time in nearly forever the future looked a lot less bleak than it normally did.

He marched through the grass towards the house triumphantly, ready to take on whatever life had to throw at him (including Ichigo -- despite his declaration that he didn't completely despise humanity, the pink-haired nuisance still wasn't on his list of favored individuals.)

He wasn't prepared for the scene that met his eyes upon opening the door.

Pudding lay on her side on the kitchen tiles near the sink.

Tart expected her to sit up, bawling loudly over having tripped and skidded across the floor on her face. He'd seen her go flying into stationary objects more times that he cared to count. "You're going to look like a road accident if you keep it up, monkey girl," he commented jokingly, ready for her attempt at a comeback.

Pudding didn't answer. She wasn't moving. "Pudding?" Tart looked more closely, stepping further into the kitchen. "Are you okay?" He could see her more clearly now. She looked all too much like a reclining rag doll, her hair draped over her eyes. Drops of blood stained the tile her left cheek rested upon.

Tart's heart froze.

He shot across the kitchen to the girl's limp form, tripping panickedly and falling beside her. Pudding showed no signs of acknowledging his presence. "Pudding, wake up." he found he was trembling uncontrollably, grabbing her by the shoulders and shaking her gently. "Pudding!"

Pudding didn't respond in any manner.

Tart pressed the palm of his hand against her chest -- she was breathing, but it was slow, as if even that was taxing. "Come on, Pudding, don't die from something dumb like this after surviving a psycho crow attack and the near collapse of downtown Tokyo." He was crying again, unconsciously. It seemed he'd waited too long to tell her the truth -- and now he wouldn't get a chance. Tart sniffled; falling apart wasn't going to help either of them. He had to help her somehow, although he knew nothing about human illness. Their physiologies weren't all that different -- he'd had colds himself, in the past, but he'd never had anything as bad as what Pudding seemed to have. She may have been heavy early, but Tart barely noticed it as he lifted the girl into his arms, carrying her out of the kitchen and into the hallway, looking around wildly. He had no idea which bedroom was hers. Two of the doors had paper stars pinned to them, another a large red paper heart. Towards the end of the hallway a door stood decorated with a single dried sunflower. Tart decided to take a wild guess, floating towards that room.

As expected, the room seemed to belong to Pudding, small and cluttered with ratty stuffed animals, toys, and photographs lining the shelves and walls. Ichigo and the other Mew Mews -- definitely Pudding's room. Tart carried the unconscious girl over to the bed, placing her in it gingerly and pulling up the blankets around her. Pudding still failed to react, which worried him even more than the fact that she had been coughing up blood. He knew about hospitals, but didn't know how to get her to one without giving himself away. Maybe Kish could help -- Pie would undoubted kill him, but Kish MIGHT understand. Tart remembered something, teleporting back to the kitchen and finding what he wanted in a stack on the counter. At least he didn't have to tear the house apart looking for things in Pudding's absence.

He headed back to Pudding's room, carrying a damp rag with him; the few times he'd been sick he could remember his mother (and Pie, once on the ship), placing a cold rag on his head to allay his fever. Pudding still hadn't moved when he returned, placing the rag on her forehead, careful to brush her hair from her face. The girl groaned slightly at the cool sensation, shifting. Tart breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn't awake yet, but it was something, at least.

He was debating whether to call for Kish or go fetch him from the ship (as well as how to explain that he was hoping to AID a Mew Mew, which could very well get him killed, especially if Pie heard) when the doorbell rang. Tart froze again. It wasn't her parents, obviously, meaning it was either a neighbor (hopefully not), another Mew Mew (even worse than the first possibility), or...her siblings. That was right -- she had mentioned that she had five younger siblings that she was responsible for, hadn't she? That was why she'd been so concerned with returning home as soon as she could -- she had to take care of her siblings.

Almost as if on cue, a high-pitched voice piped up from the living room, "Pudding-onee-chan! Me and Honcha and Lucha and Chincha and Hanacha are back and we saw lots of big fish! And Honcha got bited by a crab because he wouldn't stop poking it and-"

Another voice growled, "You're such a tattletale!" Another voice piped up in agreement, an argument breaking out over whether the allegation was true or not.

Tart resisted (with a great deal of effort) the urge to take the same route Pudding had -- to faint and hope for the best. It was going to be a much longer day than he realized.

----------------

CLIFFHANGER! AHAHAHAHAHA! Yes, I should be shot for that, and I realize it. Few notes here -- Tart's monologue is meant to be reflective of his sudden shift in attitude towards the end of the anime, which comes out of nowhere -- sorry for the spoilers, if that still applies to anyone. The Jen'an Toun'x is another throwback to The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy -- just another take on an alcoholic beverage present in some form on every planet. As for the shrine -- I was going for those little shrines you see in people's backyards and houses dedicated to a deceased family member. I'm not sure whether shrine is the correct terminology or not. I think you know what I was getting at, there. On another note, it looks like Tart-love's finally made up his mind! He's painfully late, but now the title of the fanfic makes sense! Banzai! I just realized I made a money screw up in chapter two -- 2000 yen is the equivalent of 20 dollars, and Ryou would be an absolute jerk to be paying any of the Mew Mews that little a week. That's below minimum wage! Just in case anyone noticed -- my Japanese professor would kill me for a slip-up like that. --

At any rate, Pudding's out of the picture for awhile -- next up is 'Cooking with Taruto', a dose of comedy in the midst of angst, and a pretty darn good case for birth control. See anything I need to be applauded for? Bashed in the head over? By all means, let me know.


	9. Self Control

A/N: I'm back from beyond the grave! Disclaimer stands -- I'm even broker than before. I own nothing.

"Pudding-onee-chhaaaan!!"

"We're hungry, Pudding-onee-san!" The voices were drawing closer with every passing second.

Tart did not like children. The logical fallacy behind this was lost to him (the fact that he was but a child himself), glossed over by the depths of the hatred that he held for the squealing, squabbling pink larvae the masses of the planet Earth seemed to yield in earnest. He especially didn't like the ones that never knew how to shut up. Other than Pudding herself, of course -- Pudding's incessant noise was the only kind he could tolerate for an extended length of time.

The young alien took a step towards the bedroom door and then paused, wondering just how on Earth he was supposed to explain his presence in a house that didn't belong to him while the owner of said house was out cold. He didn't imagine that Pudding's siblings would take the situation well, if they were anything like most of the small children he'd encountered so far.

"Pudding-onee-saaan!!" The door suddenly slammed open as Pudding's sister Heicha shoved her way into the room, yelling at the top of her lungs. Tart leapt back in surprise, not expecting his fate to come crashing down upon him in so sudden a manner. Heicha opened her mouth to scream again, pausing as she realized that the room was, in fact, not empty, containing both her comatose sister and a strange, quite scantily clad boy with ears similar to an elf's standing before her. Heicha stared. Tart stared back.

This went on for another 30 seconds of awkward silence, during which Tart wondered whether the night would end in a run-in with the police.

Then Heicha broke the silence with a piercing scream. It was surprisingly loud for such a tiny little girl, Tart noted offhandedly as he prepared to vanish into thin air before the authorities arrived. He'd seen enough late-night television programming to have a working knowledge of how the police force in Tokyo operated. His only concern was that he still had no idea whether Pudding would be all right...and whether her siblings would be able to do anything for her.

Pudding's quadruplet brothers piled into the room in a heap of blonde hair and large, staring golden eyes which widened upon the sight of the newcomer. Then they started to scream too, and the resulting cacophony was deafening. Tart clamped his hands over his ears, shouting in aggravation, "Shut up!!"

Heicha's brothers paused in their screeching only momentarily before resuming their stance; Heicha herself, on the other hand, took offense at the comment, placing her hands on her tiny hips and rushing forward to stomp on Tart's bare foot with a childish vengeance. "Don't tell me to shut up, you big stupid meanie!! What did you do to onee-chan? And who are you anyway? And why are you in our house? And why are you all naked?"

Tart was used to being thrown across the room in training sessions with Kish; otherwise the damage to his foot might have been a little more painful. "Why do you have to ask five stupid questions all at once?" he snapped, resisting the urge to snatch the annoying creature up with a vine and send her careening out into the yard from the window.

"Why are you such a meanie?" Heicha snapped in response, stomping on his foot again.

"Cut that out!"

"No!!" Heicha threw herself to the ground and commenced to pitch a gargantuan fit, screaming at the top of her lungs. "PUDDING-ONEE-CHAN!!!!!"

Tart gaped. Of all the incidents he could speak of within his lifetime he had never encountered one like this. Perhaps if he just let her go on screaming until the cops showed up at least they could figure out what was wrong with Pudding and get her whatever help she needed. But then again, he didn't trust any incompetent humans to do anything more than make the situation worse. He sighed, trying his best to mentally blot out the sound of the five children shrieking. How had Pie dealt with him when he was unruly? Tart felt a slight blush color his cheeks, realizing with embarrassment that it hadn't been long since he himself had thrown similar temper tantrums, except his were much worse because they involved his vines and various kinds of knives. Thankfully, his own childish ravings had blessed him with the ability to lie with a straight face when need be.

Tart smiled in a friendly and engaging manner, leaning down to pat Heicha's head. "I'm sorry if I was a meanie," he cooed, stroking the little girl's blonde hair soothingly. "I'm your sister's friend from school...Ta...Ta...naka. She didn't feel well so I came over to help her with..." Tart cursed his sudden lack of knowledge concerning the life of the average banal human being. "A project! For school."

Heicha's screaming tapered off. She sat up, looking vaguely annoyed. "Well why didn't you say that before?" She seemed to accept the explanation, glancing up at the still form of Pudding. "Why is onee-chan asleep?"

"Because...she has a headache!" So do I. "Sleeping makes headaches go away." Tart topped the lie off with another winning smile. He was going to hate himself in the morning.

"Oh, okay." Heicha rubbed her eyes with her fists, turning to where Honcha, Lucha, Hanacha, and Chincha were still shrieking. "Shut up!" she snapped violently, smacking all four of her brothers in the head in rapid succession. "He's onee-chan's friend." The quadruplets instantly forgot their previous terror, all falling silent as one. Tart felt a sense of accomplishment, basking in the refreshing momentary silence.

And momentary it was, because at that point the children began talking all at once.

"Why is Pudding-onee-san sleeping?"

"I'm still hungry!!"

"Are you our babysitter, Tanaka-onii-san?"

"I want sukiyaki!! Su-ki-ya-"

"Shut up! You know that's too expensive!!"

"Wahhh!! We're poorer than the little match girl! We're going to have to work in the salt mines for 2 yen an hour and-"

"Salt comes from mines?"

"...I'm STILL hungry."

Tart groaned, not bothering to hide it. 'These brats are definitely related to Monkey Girl over there,' he though, shaking his head mournfully. 'NONE of them know how to shut up for five minutes!'

One of the quadruplets (Heicha had mentioned their names but Tart couldn't have told them apart had he tried) attached himself to Tart's leg, "I'm hungry, Tanaka-san!! Can't you wake Pudding-onee-san up so she can make dinner?"

Tart stared down at the aggravating creature with distaste that he HOPED wasn't obvious. "Can't you feed yourselves?"

Honcha, Lucha, Hanacha, and Chincha all looked at each other and cheered. "Yay!!" Heicha darted forward and smacked them again, barking sharply, "No!! You remember what happened last time?? Do you wanna burn down the whole house and we'll end up living in a cardboard box in the park and then wolves will eat us and -"

"Enough!!" Tart shouted, causing all five children to jump in surprise. "Do you have to fight over everything?"

"Duh!" Heicha replied haughtily. "We're siblings, dummyhead! We're supposed to!"

Tart bit his lip. He wasn't sure how to respond to that one. Heicha smiled, looking smug. Tart sighed. "Fine. But if you keep fighting you're going to wake Pudding up and she's sick. She needs to sleep. So go fight out there!"

Heicha stuck her lip out. "But we're hungry and we're not allowed to cook anything."

Suddenly all five heads snapped up in unison, five pairs of golden eyes staring in his direction with the same though in mind.

Tart was quite positive that he wouldn't just hate himself the next morning -- he'd be hating himself for the next two weeks.

----------------------

Pudding had made good use of her paycheck. The kitchen was full of food, in strange packages that Tart didn't recognize. His first thought was to just give them all the candy he could find and be done with it -- he caught himself in time, realizing what a stupid decision that would have been. The quadruplets were already high-strung enough as it was, chattering in identical voices while rattling off the list of things they wanted to eat.

Tart had never heard of any of them, much less knew how to cook them. "Just what happened last time that's preventing you from cooking yourselves?" he grumbled to Heicha, who was standing next to him, contemplating in uncharacteristic silence. Heicha's cheeks flushed. She ducked her head, muttering something about fire, whatever high explosives were, and the police.

Tart hadn't understood all of her explanation but he understood enough. "Never mind." He picked up the container of miso paste, setting it down with a sigh of resignation. "So what does Pudding cook?"

Heicha brightened. "Pudding-onee-chan is a very good cook. She can cook anything!"

"Really." Tart said flatly. He doubted Pudding could fix a bowl of cereal without almost cutting her own hand off.

"Really really. She's the best cook ever!" Heicha's eyes grew large with longing. "She always cooks sukiyaki on my birthday and our brothers' birthdays. It's so yummy!"

"What's sukiyaki?" Tart scratched his head, turning the unfamiliar word over in his mind.

"We can't have it," Heicha sighed. "We don't have any beef."

Tart groaned. "What do you have?"

Heicha glanced over at the quadruplets rummaging through the cabinets, wantonly tossing packages and containers on the kitchen floor. "Umm..." A container of pickled radishes split open and began to pool slowly across the floor tiles. "Umm...sometimes Pudding-onee-chan orders out for yakisoba when she doesn't want to cook."

Tart blinked. Stealing wasn't a new thing for him, especially given that he was capable of vanishing into thin air after snatching whatever it was he was interested in. Legitimately buying something was another story.

Honcha seized a pickled radish and flung it at one of his brothers, screaming at the top of his lungs. "You take that back!! Bakabakabakabakabaka-" Tart clamped his hands over his ears once again, wincing. He turned to Heicha, looking mournful. "Where's the phone?"

--------------------------

Legitimately purchasing items, caring about the wellbeing of other individuals, and caring for small children without murdering either them or their parents weren't the only things Tart had no experience whatsoever with.

Heicha stared up at him. "What's wrong?"

"...what do I do with this?" Tart turned the receiver over in his hands. He had the distinct feeling that both Pie and Kish would be uncommonly amused at his predicament. He considered briefly returning to the ship to inquire about the uses of an Earthly telephone but knew good and damn well that if he did he probably wouldn't be returning.

Heicha could look quite condescending for a little girl. "You don't know how to use a telephone?"

Tart's cheeks flushed against his better judgment. "Are you calling me stupid, brat?"

Heicha's expression was one of mirthful pity. "Yes."

"I..." Tart's eye twitched. "I'm a foreign exchange student, okay??"

Heicha wordlessly snatched the receiver from him and keyed in the restaurant's express line number. She handed it back to him with undisguised scorn. "Ask for yakisoba specials 3 and 5 with extra eggrolls. Delivery."

Tart glared at her, cursing silently to himself.

"Sukura Nihon Cafe!" The voice on the other end of the line sounded extremely cheerful. "We deliver until 10 pm Monday through Friday, 12 on Sunday. Can I take your order?"

Tart froze, trying to remember the stream of foreign words that Heicha had barked at him. "Um...do you have...yaki..soba?"

"Yes, we do! Would you like one of our house specials?"

"Um...yes." He glanced over at Heicha, who was holding up both hands, indicating three fingers on one and all five on the other. "3 and 5?"

"I'm sorry, we've discontinued special #5. Can I interest you in-"

"Discontinued?"

"Yes, we no longer serve yakisoba special #5."

"Why?" Tart's eye was twitching again. His temper hadn't shattered in well over ten minutes of things that ordinarily would have caused him to throw a screaming fit, replete with knife throwing after only 30 seconds.

The voice on the other end of the line was beginning to sound a little less cheerful. "We cannot disclose this information. I'm sorry for any inconvenience. Might I interest you in-"

"What do you mean you can't disclose it? I'm a paying customer!"

"Sir, I would appreciate you not taking that tone of vo-"

"Sir?"

"Sir, if you would..."

"Look, lady, just give me a number 5 so I can feed these stupid brats and go home!"

"Look sir, I'm trying to-" The voice on the other end of the line wasn't just less cheerful -- the woman was beginning to sound distinctly aggravated, as if she wanted to just hang up.

"Stop trying and just do it!! It's not like I WANT to be doing this!"

"What's your problem? If I can't give you a number 5 then I can't give you a number 5!"

"Don't yell at me!! I'm the customer damnit!!" Tart shrieked into the phone, pounding the countertop with his fist.

"Hey, buddy, come on over here and I'll give you some yakisoba for free! Right in your-"

Tart slammed the receiver down, gritting his teeth. "Why are all humans incompetent???"

Heicha narrowed her eyes at him. "What was that for? All you had to do was tell the guy you wanted two number 3 specials! Now we're all going to starve to death!!" The little girl's face crumpled, the prospect of more wild tears hanging over Tart's head like a curse.

'...Monkey Girl, I swear you'll pay for this.' Tart hung his head dejectedly. "Does Pudding buy whatever you need to make yakisoba?" Heicha nodded, sniffling. Tart set his jaw, clenching his fist with determination. "Where is it?"

---------------

In Tart and Heicha's absence the kitchen had become a warzone. Honcha, Lucha, Hanacha, and Chincha were throwing potatoes at each other. There were various eating utensils spread over the floor. Chincha was missing his pants.

Heicha threw herself among them screaming as well, lashing out in all directions.

Tart stood in the doorway and looked upon the face of chaos. Only twenty minutes had passes since the return of Pudding's siblings. He wasn't sure why he hadn't just LEFT by then. It would have been an astronomically less aggravating decision than dealing with the squealing, fighting quadruplets and their sister. He found he now held a new respect for Pudding -- putting up with THAT on a daily basis would have driven him insane after only a day or so.

They had to go sleep. It was the only way he could break free of the nightmare that was Pudding's siblings so that he could check on Pudding herself and return home unscathed with his sanity in tact. He had to feed them and make sure they went to sleep. And soon, or he would lose his mind completely.

Tart had never cooked before. Occasionally on the ship Pie cooked, because Kish was incompetent when it came to almost anything other than being a skirt-chaser. Usually, though, they relied on the nutrition synthesis device Pie had knocked up before they left their planet. The food it spit out wasn't delicious, but then again, everything paled in comparison to his mother's cooking, so it was no surprise. As for watching his mother cook -- Tart realized with a twinge of regret that he'd never taken the time to watch her cook the meals he gulped down in mere seconds. Earth food was something he'd never even considered.

Thinking about it more closely, Tart COULD remember seeing something useful on the streets of Tokyo -- crowded noodle stands. If he remembered correctly, the noodles were boiled in a pot until ready and then slung across the counter in small bowls to be devoured by starving humans.

He needed a pot.

"Heicha." Heicha didn't answer; she was occupied with attempting to brain one of her younger brothers with a stray potato. "HEICHA!!!" The little girl looked, her face twisted with annoyance. "Yakisoba is noodles, right?"

Heicha rolled her eyes. "Duh! What did you think it was?"

Tart felt a twinge of pride at his self-control -- it had been close to 45 minutes already, and he hadn't thrown a single knife, nor sent a vine twining around the neck of one of Pudding's overly aggravating siblings yet. "Where does Pudding keep the pots around here?"

Heicha looked up at him, her golden eyes skeptical. "What do you need a pot for?"

"Isn't that how you cook yakisoba?" Tart hoped he was correct -- the concept of placing noodles in a pot and boiling them was simplistic enough.

"Yakisoba is fried. In a pan."

"Oh..." Tart scratched his head; while there were considerably more steps involved in frying something, it didn't seem too difficult. "Okay. Where does she keep the pans?"

A stray potato flew over his head, missing him by a single inch. The resulting screech behind him assured him that the potato had not been meant for him; instead, it had found its mark in one of the quadruplets.

Chincha was still missing his pants.

-------------  
Excerpt from Pudding's recipe cards (inherited from her mother), which, had Tart been in better spirits and Heicha a little less excitable, they would have found in the same cabinet Hanacha, Lucha, Chincha, and Honcha had located the bag of potatoes they used to initiate World War 3, and possibly saved themselves time, a few minor injuries, and property damage.

Mom's Yakisoba

(6 servings)

1 lb lean pork loin, sliced thinly (against the grain)  
1/3 cup soy sauce  
1/3 cup rice wine  
1 1/2 tablespoons sugar  
12 ounces Chinese wheat noodles (udon noodles may be substituted)  
3 tablespoons vegetable oil  
1 onion, sliced thin  
1 lb napa cabbage or savoy cabbage, sliced very thin  
3 carrots, grated  
1 tablespoon chopped ginger  
2 scallions, thinly sliced (optional)

1. In a small bowl, mix together soy sauce, rice wine, and sugar, stirring to dissolve.  
2. Cook noodles in boiling water about 8 minutes, or until tender.  
3. Drain noodles and rinse under cold water.  
4. In a large deep skillet or wok, cook onion in oil for about 3 minutes.  
5. Add the cabbage, carrot and ginger and cook until cabbage is softened, about 3-5 minutes.  
6. Add the pork and cook for 2 minutes more.  
7. Cover the mixture with noodles and pour the sauce over all.  
8. Cover and cook for 3-5 minutes, the remove the lid and toss the mixture together until it is well combined.  
9. Place on a serving platter and garnish with chopped scallions, if desired.

-------------

Tart and Heicha's Last Ditch Resort Yakisoba

(?? servings)

2 packs of ramen noodles  
1 bottle of soy sauce  
1 cabbage  
2 smashed potatoes  
4 badly chopped carrots  
1 small bag of bamboo shoots  
1 what was probably an onion before Hanacha used it as ammunition after being banished to the living room by Heicha  
1 large pot  
1 frying pan  
1 small child's enthusiasm  
1/2 of Tart's remaining sanity

----------------

He would remember it as one of his most memorable experiences after leaving Earth -- as their ship sped away from Earth, carrying the three aliens filled with new resolve, Tart would gaze longingly at the blue jewel of a planet he was leaving behind, and twitch ever so slightly at the memory of the time he baby-sat for Pudding's siblings.

Boiling the noodles was the easiest part. This only required filling the pot with water from the sink, ripping open the shiny packaging encasing the ramen noodles, tossing them into the pot carelessly, and turning up the burner. No problem there. The thought never crossed Tart's mind that all noodles were not created equal -- all he had to go on was Heicha's cryptic information that yakisoba contained noodles, vegetables, and probably soy sauce.

Tart took an interest in the variety of Earth vegetables available. Real vegetables, things that grew in fertile ground, were almost non-existent on his desert planet -- he was certain there was vegetation above ground, but it was far too dangerous to risk going outside hunting for variety in one's daily meals. Heicha wasn't exactly sure which vegetables Pudding used -- in her young mind, all vegetables WERE created equal, and therefore the kinds of vegetables that went into the dish were highly irrelevant. Tart resorted to merely rescuing some of the more salvageable potatoes the quadruplets had left in their wake, and digging up a stray bag of bamboo shoots, a cabbage, and some carrots he found in the refrigerator. It was at Heicha's suggestion that the onion be included -- after all, it was merely split in half, not smashed like many of the potatoes that littered the floor.

It was then that the less than brilliant plan began to careen downhill like an out-of-control vehicle, with poor exhausted Tart at the wheel.

"Ow!" Tart hissed a few obscenities in his native language, thrusting his finger into his mouth.

Heicha's eyes widened. "Do you need some band-aids, Tanaka-san?"

Tart cringed at the sharp taste of his own blood, shaking his head. Wiping his hand against his shirt, he pushed the pain in his finger from his mind, seizing the carrot vindictively and raising the knife to make it pay for having caused him so much misery.

"Ow!!"

"Do you need som-"

"No!" Grab carrot, raise knife. "Ow!!!" More alien obscenities.

"Um...Tanaka-san...I don't think carrots taste good with blood on them."

Tart placed the knife on the counter, stepping back slowly. He seemed to be concentrating on something intently, his teeth digging into his lip. The young alien raised his hand before his face, counting the amount of cuts he'd inflicted during his quest to slice a single carrot. 9. He shook his hand, wincing, and leaned back against the counter, gaze wandering over the kitchen. He now had a lot more respect for Pudding; and Pie, for that matter.

His eyes rested on a device he remembered from some commercial he'd seen on late-night pirated television, some overly medicated young man excitedly pointing out the amazing capabilities of...a blender! That was it. He'd only seen the machine used for liquids during the commercial, at least before Kish got bored and changed the channel -- but he did remember seeing the salesman raving about it's ability to chop ice. Ice was solid, like carrots.

Like carrots.

Heicha followed his gaze. "Oh, my friend's mom makes vegetable juice with that!" What Heicha did not realize that there was a distinct difference in quality and price between the blender Pudding had purchased, and the blender her friend from school's mother had been able to afford.

"So you can use it to chop things?" Heicha nodded affirmatively, cementing the idea in Tart's mind. He picked up the carrots, and the decimated onion, and practically ran for the blender, eager to have his revenge on the despicable vegetables before him.

He and Heicha had both forgotten the ramen noodles, which were now boiling.

Tart plucked the top from the blender, dropping the vegetables in and replacing it. He inspected, with Heicha's help, the two lone functions the blender contained - Blend, and Annihilate. He wasn't sure why a word detailing utter destruction was printed on a kitchen device, but he liked the sound of it. With a sigh of relief that his ordeal was coming to a swift end, Tart pressed the 'Annihilate' button, smiling for the first time in an hour.

At this point all hell broke loose.

Had he bothered to chop, even slightly, the vegetables beforehand, the blender might have been able to handle their bulk.

The blender erupted in an inhuman, mechanical wailing noise that sounded like several live cats being dipped into a pot of hot oil. The top flew off and banged against the cabinets, nearly clipping Heicha's scalp in the process. Partially chopped carrot and onion splattered against the wall, the blender continuing to scream in pain.

Heicha began to scream too, covering her ears with her hands. Her scream brought the quadruplets running, upon reaching the kitchen Honcha stepped on a potato, landing on his face and setting up a childish howl. Chincha, who still hadn't located his pants, found this hilarious, landing on his rear end and laughing uproariously.

The pot of ramen decided to boil over, the burner sizzling as water splashed against it. The stovetop began to smoke.

Tart looked upon the scene with a surprising amount of calm. It was amazing how such a simple task as eating could turn into such a horrendous nightmare. Maybe humans weren't so stupid after all, if they managed to go through this everyday without it ending badly.

Honcha had a nosebleed. Hanacha had commenced rolling around in the homemade mashed potatoes coating the floor. Heicha was still screaming, in direct competition with the blender.

Tart wasn't sure whether to laugh or cry.

He decided to do both.  
--------------

Hanacha burped loudly, much to the amusement of his brothers. Heicha rolled her eyes.

Tart watched them warily from his position in the doorway, a safe distance from Pudding's hellacious kitchen should it decide to attack him again.

"Are you happy now?" He asked cautiously, not sure what he'd do if the answer were anything other than 'yes'.

Fate had found favor with his resilience, however -- Hanacha, Heicha, Honcha, Lucha, and Chincha all chimed in unison. "Yes! Thank you, Tanaka-san!"

"Good." Tart replied flatly. "Now go do something that doesn't involve me seeing you for awhile. Or the house burning down. Or potatoes."

The children filed out of the kitchen in a disorganized jumble, off to tear the rest of the house apart. In their wake they left a kitchen table covered in takeout packages and containers.

Tart was almost positive that if he bothered to watch the news later on that night, he would see the incident that had resulted in the acquisition of said takeout covered in full, a hysterical Sukura Nihon delivery boy detailing how a ghost had appeared in front of him in the cold twilight on his way to make a few deliveries, grinning insanely, and made off with his bike and all the food he meant to deliver, seizing the bike with vines that seemed to have a life of their own and vanishing before his eyes. Unknown to Tart, the incident would actually go in the delivery boy's favor, scoring him two weeks paid vacation, albeit accompanied by a prescription for strong anti-depressants and a few free visits with a well-known therapist.

But Tart didn't know this, and he didn't care, as he summoned his vines to send the bike flying into obscurity, effectively destroying the evidence. As far as he was concerned, it was all collateral damage.

Only Heicha had been suspicious about how he managed to afford enough food to feed them for two days straight, and then only momentarily; hunger had soon gotten the best of her and found her tearing into the food with as much enthusiasm as her siblings.

After all, theft was only a crime in human society, and since when did he even bother to care the slightest bit about the rules and regulations of the society he was intending to destroy?

He had to admit, though -- yakisoba, when done by professionals that actually knew what they were doing, was pretty tasty.  
---------

"Pudding? Are you awake?"

Pudding coughed, her eyes creeping open slightly. Her face was still flushed. "Tar-Tar...?" Those same eyes widened in concern as she remembered her responsibility. "Oh, I have to..."

Tart held up his hand to halt her. "Don't worry about it. I fed them."

Pudding's eyes widened even further. "You did?"

Tart's only response was a smile.

Pudding coughed again, sniffling pathetically. "Thank you, Tar-Tar."

Tart floated over to seat himself on the bed beside her, looking concerned. "Are you feeling better?" he asked, reaching over to readjust the rag on her forehead.

Pudding shook her head, no. Her eyes were already beginning to drift closed again. "Thank you for taking care of them, Tar-Tar. When my mom died I promised her I'd take care of them always. It's hard, though. But it's okay, because I have Zakuro and Ichigo and Mint and Lettuce and you, so even if I have to work very hard all the time I'll be okay."

The girl's face softened into a pleasant, sleepy smile. "I'm glad I met you, Tar-Tar. I'm so glad we're friends." Pudding's voice was beginning to fade. She turned on her side, her hair falling over her eyes as she continued to whisper raspily, no longer aware of Tart's presence. "So happy..."

Pudding's voice faded away completely, and Tart felt a momentary twinge of panic before realizing that she'd merely gone back to sleep, still breathing shallowly.

It was very strange, seeing the fragile, susceptible, human Pudding, not the girl he continually fought and argued with whenever they were around each other, the girl that was always so very full of vitality. Even stranger was the fact that it was almost painful to see Pudding hurting -- Tart ignored the fact that he himself had caused her pain before, albeit not pain as bad as this. Then again, he'd never been so certain of how he felt about the accursed monkey girl as he was in this moment -- the ideas and thoughts had been eating at him for some time, and now they had come to a head.

"I'm glad I met you, too." Tart said aloud, wishing Pudding could hear him in the darkness her illness had forced upon her. Pudding, of course, didn't answer.

Tart lay back against the blankets, a slight blush tinting his cheeks as he looked over at the sleeping girl beside him. He wasn't sure what to do now. Pudding's siblings were sated, Pudding was out of danger, at least from anything he could do -- but there had to be some way he could help her. If he dropped her off at a human medical facility they'd be able to help her -- but that would mean leaving her siblings alone; he had to return to the ship eventually. Anyway, he had the idea that those in authority probably wouldn't approve of such a young girl caring for children only a few years younger than herself; he didn't know what that would mean for her, but it probably wouldn't be good. He could pull a 'ghost job' on one of Tokyo's many convenience stores, but he wasn't sure what medicine to make off with -- he wasn't even sure what she was sick with. Tart groaned, massaging his temples. He hated feeling helpless.

...there was one thing.

Tart sat straight up with a jolt. It was a bad idea. It was an even worse idea because he didn't know how he could explain it to Kish and Pie if they caught him.

But it was an idea, a much better one than anything else he could come up with.

Tart turned to stare at Pudding; was she really worth risking so much for?

He already knew the answer -- hell, he'd answered it earlier several times. At this point the question was irrelevant. The answer had always been yes, because he loved Mew Pudding, his enemy, friend, and rival. He always had.

Tart set his jaw in resolution, reaching over to grasp Pudding's limp hand. Her palm was unnervingly clammy.

And then he was gone, his determination driving him forward to what might be his own ruin.

But it was worth it.

---------

...I don't even know. I've been gone for awhile! I haven't written in awhile, either, so I apologize if it's choppy/lower quality than before -- I'll strive to improve for you guys!

The yakisoba recipe was listed on and there to provide contrast for how bloody off the mark Tart and Heicha were. As for trying to chop carrots in a blender -- I'm guilty of that one. I'm not even going to make apologies for that one. Potatoes don't go in yakisoba, to my limited knowledge. Then again, there are a lot of hole in logic here, but I honestly had a lot of fun writing this chapter -- I baby-sit a lot, so I know how truly bad it can get. Tart's lucky nothing caught on fire.

By the way, I also apologize if Tart and Pudding have gone out of character a bit. It's hard to keep comedic relief characters in character during serious moments, but I'm doing my best to retain plausibility here. At this point, we've got one chapter and the epilogue to go. Thank you anyone's who's stuck with me so far with the waiting -- I came back to finish up for you guys, and I'll try my damnedest to make the wait worth it for you. See you in chapter 10!

BTW, try that recipe if you get the chance -- yakisoba is quite delicious.


	10. Resolution

As Tart landed lightly on the mirrored floor of the ship's bridge, he noted that it was dark and silent, as he'd hoped it would be. He and his comrades didn't exactly have a normal sleeping schedule; rather, they functioned on impulse, be it to roll over and sleep off the miserable failure of the day, eat, or cause massive destruction in the city below them. He wondered if Kish and Pie were actually asleep -- it would make his job a lot easier if they were effectively out of commission for awhile. 

Thankfully Pie's scanners only set up a wailing alarm when a foreign individual was detected; Tart rose a few inches above ground and began to make his way towards their quarters. There were enough nooks and crannies on the ship to allow them the luxury of finding somewhere else to spend a few hours when one or the other got their nerves, so separate sleeping quarters were not a necessity. Tart felt a slight sense of deja vu as he passed over the same spot he'd hovered in hours ago, screaming at Kish regarding his foolish emotional decisions. Given all that had happened that day, it seemed more like years since he'd declared his hatred for all things human.

The only sound he heard as he approached their sleeping quarters was the soft mechanical throbbing of the ship. Tart elevated himself almost to the ceiling, proceeding with caution.

Pie was definitely asleep, floating above his makeshift bed on his back. The older alien looked solemn and emotionless while conscious -- the expression on his face during slumber was oddly peaceful, almost a half-smile. Maybe he was dreaming of success; Tart wasn't sure what else Pie could be dreaming about. For Kish, though, lying on his stomach and snoring softly, it was obvious -- there was only one thing/person Kish would be dreaming about, and it most certainly was not Pie.

Tart hoped it wasn't Pie, for the sake of his understanding of the way the universe worked.

The young alien shook his head free of the disturbing thought before it could come to full fruition. Kish and Pie were asleep; as long as he was perfectly silent in the carrying out of his plan, he was, for the moment, safe.

Tart sighed with relief and floated back towards the bridge.

Kish's eyes flickered open, shining in the dim emergency light. He was a much lighter sleeper than Tart could have imagined; although the fact was, he hadn't been sleeping at all, really. The train of thought keeping him awake was very similar to that which Tart had spent the day struggling with. Contrary to Tart's belief that he blindly allowed himself to be turned by the thought of Ichigo, Kish actually spent quite a bit of time pondering over the situation. Fortunately for him, he had far fewer emotional hang-ups than Tart did.

At the moment, though, Tart's suspicious behavior, skulking around on the ceiling, was slightly more interesting than his feelings for Ichigo. Kish quietly deserted his bed, gliding along a good twenty feet behind Tart.

-------------------

It was pure coincidence that Tart knew about the significance of the storage area he was headed towards. With what Pie was keeping there, he would have expected the older alien to have somehow sealed the place; logically, though, Pie's choice made sense, seeing as extra security was notorious for piquing the curiosity of his teammates, whereas a mere storage closet was nothing to be interested in. As it was, the only reason Tart knew about it was from hiding in said closet after breaking a shelf full of Pie's test tubes and fleeing for his life.

Glancing behind him nervously, Tart took a deep breath and placed his hand against the door. The door gently slid open, and Tart praised the powers that were that the process was almost completely noiseless. He floated into the room, equally thankful for their lack of a need for light -- he could see almost as well in the dark as he could with the presence of light, which made snooping around Pie's labs after hours a lot easier.

The room was filled with various metal crates and containers of strange liquid; what Tart was looking for, however, was located in a small cabinet in the very corner of the room. Tart felt his way over to the cabinet, gingerly maneuvering around the cargo in his path. If he remembered correctly, it was in the second drawer from the left. He crossed his fingers (something he'd unwittingly picked up from Earth television), and pulled the drawer open.

There it was, shimmering effervescently in the darkness.

Tart's face was unconsciously frozen in an expression of awe as he reached forward, gently picking up the tiny glass bottle of Mew Aqua. He had no idea where Pie had gotten it, nor why he'd bothered to keep the knowledge from the rest of them. He probably thought Tart would use it for something, the young alien thought bitterly. Accusations could wait until later, though -- if he was correct, he only needed a few droplets of this life-giving liquid for Pudding, not the entire bottle. Tart uncapped the equally tiny bottle he'd found after rooting around in one of Pie's labs, alongside an eyedropper.

"Looks like we have a pest control problem in our pantry."

Tart bit his lip to keep from shrieking; as it was, he was lucky he'd set the bottle of Mew Aqua back in the drawer. He whirled around to find Kish hovering in the doorway, his eyes glowing almost supernaturally, both fangs visibly pressing into his bottom lip.

Kish smiled.

Tart groaned. "Oh, crap."

Kish suddenly appeared beside him, having teleported into the room faster more quickly than Tart could follow. He stared at the bottle of Mew Aqua, his gaze rising up to take in the empty bottle and the eyedropper, and then resting on Tart's guilty, embarrassed grin. "Might I ask what you were planning to do with that?"

"Ah..." Tart wracked his brain for a plausible excuse. He couldn't really think of any that didn't sound like a complete lie. Then again, Kish wasn't the brightest bulb on the bridge, so maybe he would fall for a complete lie. Tart could only hope. "Um...I...have a cold!"

"Really." Kish's voice was flat and unbelieving.

"Yeah! I...caught it this afternoon...because it was raining! And I...er...I lost my umbrella?"

"You don't have an umbrella."

"Yeah, and that's why I'm sick." Tart smiled winningly. He was certain that resorting to violence wouldn't work out in his favor. Kish was faster, a lot stronger, and far more skilled at combat -- and anyway, he'd basically be signing his own suicide note by betraying Deep Blue and their mission to that extent. He'd never be able to go home again. Although, granted, his current actions were betrayal to the cause in themselves; at least he hadn't totally spat in the face of his allegiance to their mission, at least not worse than Kish already had.

Kish folded his arms over his chest. "Try again."

"You don't believe me?" Tart faked a cough, and a pathetic one at that. "Your own teammate could be dying from some incurable disease, and you'd begrudge him a few drops of medicine? You really are heartless."

"Tart," Kish sighed, "If you were actually sick, that's what the healing chamber is for."

Tart hadn't considered that.

"Er.." Tart trailed off. He was pretty sure lying wouldn't get him anywhere.

He would have to tell Kish the truth; at least if anyone could understand, it was Kish, although he knew that his life from then on out would be hell. Kish would never let him live it down. But what other choice did he have?

"Fine," Tart replied, with resignation. "I need it for something."

Kish looked skeptical. "What could you possibly need it for that you couldn't bother to tell me or Pie?"

"Well..."  
-----------------

To Kish's credit, he was a much better listener than Tart had thought he would be. He did smirk from time to time, and actually chuckled at Tart's description of the escapade with the Fong siblings; but for the most part, he sat on the metal crate attentively, a slight smile on his face.

"And then I got caught trying to make off with a few drops of Mew Aqua, and...well, there you go." Tart finished. He was sure his cheeks were aflame at this point.

Kish cleared his throat, his fangs becoming visible once again as he grinned maliciously. "I thought you said you didn't like humans."

Tart clenched his fists, hissing. "I don't like humans! They're stupid! But I..." he paused, looking away from Kish. "I...she's different."

"She's different because you love her." Kish's grin had faded into a comforting, brotherly smile. "When someone's that special to you, you forget about their faults."

"But that makes me stupid too!" Tart protested. "That means I'm a traitor, all over a stupid monkey girl that can't shut up for five minutes!"

"Loving someone doesn't make you a traitor." Kish's voice was thoughtful, almost as if he were speaking to himself. "Sometimes you can't help the way you feel about someone. Love is like that."

"It makes you stupid."

"Yeah, it does."

Tart sighed, hanging his head. "She...she's different from other humans. She...she likes me, and...she's fun to be around, and strong, and caring, and..." He trailed off for a minute before continuing. "She has so much to do, and I know I should be glad that my enemy's out of commission, but I don't want to see her hurting anymore."

"What do you think's going to happen when Deep Blue awakens, Tart?" Kish asked, his tone serious.

"I..." Tart wasn't sure of that himself. If he could have had his way, he would have Pudding spared so they could be together...but he knew she could never desert her friends and her siblings, even if she did love him. And she couldn't be happy in such a world, without anyone other than him that she loved; he wouldn't force her to be separated from them. "I'll kill her."

Kish didn't answer.

"I don't want her to resent me for taking away everything she loves. I don't ever want her to be in pain." Tart smiled sadly; Kish noticed the tears at the edges of his eyes. "Is that how you feel about Ichigo?"

Kish nodded. He was unable to say what he wanted to -- that he had suddenly become aware of the flaw in his emotions: selfishness. He intended to take Ichigo with him when the time came, whether she wanted or not; he still believed he could get her to fall in love with him, one day. His plans had taken a severe blow -- what if she hated him far too much afterwards for him to ever make it up to her? He couldn't think about that. He also realized that he had underestimated how Tart felt about Pudding. He'd thought it was merely a crush -- Tart truly loved her. It was sad to see his teammate (and friend) so torn between duty and the small, noisy human girl he'd inadvertently fallen in love with.

"So even though I have to say goodbye one day, I want her to be happy as long as possible." Tart said resolutely.

"...I guess you're no longer in denial." Kish commented.

Tart shook his head.

"...well." Kish, for once, was speechless. "I guess you know what you have to do." He picked up the bottle of Mew Aqua, handing it to the younger alien.

"Thank you, Kish." Tart said gratefully, uncapping the Mew Aqua and drawing a miniscule amount with the eyedropper. "I guess...maybe Ichigo...isn't so stupid after all." The words sounded far too foreign to him, tasting like bile on his tongue.

Kish laughed. "It's okay. I know you don't think very much of my taste."

Tart didn't respond -- the grimace on his face said it all.

"Granted, I don't think that much of yours, either." Kish smirked. "A girl like that will want to be on top all the time. And I seriously doubt your ability to keep up with someone THAT energetic."

Tart's mouth dropped open, his cheeks flushing deep crimson. "She's...she's 8!"

Kish's grin widened. "She'll get bigger."

"You...you're sick!" Tart cried, placing the Mew Aqua back in the drawer and slamming it. "She doesn't even have..." His face betrayed his train of thought, his cheeks reddening further.

Kish was obviously enjoying himself. "Just remember, you're got to take care of anything you bring home!"

Tart's only response was a heavily flustered and poorly executed raspberry as he vanished on his way back to Earth.  
-------------------

Honcha, Heicha, Lucha, Chincha, and Hanacha had exhausted themselves. The children were draped in various positions of repose in the living room as Tart glided past them. He paused in mid-air, wondering whether it was worth it attempting to move them to their respective rooms -- he ran the risk of waking them up, and he'd had far enough of them for one day. He compromised by visiting the remaining rooms and returning with several blankets, covering each child with gentleness he wasn't aware he was capable of. They were kind of cute when they were quiet. And immobile.

He continued on his way to Pudding's room, cradling the bottle of Mew Aqua in his hands. Another, previously unconsidered problem had occurred to him -- how he would get Pudding to drink the Mew Aqua in the first place. He'd thought about diluting it in normal water and trying to get her to drink something, but he didn't know whether it would dilute the Mew Aqua's efficiency. He could easily just wake her up and tell her it was medicine -- but the total cessation of all her symptoms might make her suspicious, and he didn't want to cause any turmoil between them, not yet.

He stood in Pudding's doorway, twisting the cap off the bottle idly. He could also dip his finger into the bottle, placing a few drops on her lips. He wasn't sure whether it needed to be taken internally, though; there were tons of factors he hadn't cov-

Tart yelped as he tripped over something lying on the floor, the bottle of Mew Aqua flying out of his hands and landing on the carpet. On it's side.

Had Tart had the presence of mind to look back at what he'd tripped over, he'd have wondered why Chincha's pants were, of all places, on Pudding's floor.

At the moment, though, his mind was more preoccupied with nursing the spilled bottle of Mew Aqua, mourning the dark stain on the carpet. He'd already taken a risk by drawing as much as he had, even the small amount he'd gotten; Kish might have understood. He was fairly certain Pie wouldn't.

Pudding muttered in her sleep, visibly shivering.

Tart stared at the empty bottle of Mew Aqua in his hands. He'd come so close to helping her, only to fail so miserably -- maybe there was a touch left in the bottle, but was it enough to heal her? And how would he get her to drink from an empty bottle, anyway?

It came to him, just as the epiphany regarding the Mew Aqua's existence had an hour ago.

Tart stood up, holding the bottle close. He didn't bother to expend energy hovering; he crossed the carpet on foot, standing at Pudding's side. The girl's face was flushed with fever; Tart's was equally flushed, but for a different reason.

He raised the bottle to his lips, his hands shaking with anxiety that he kept forcing from his mind. Don't think. Do. He ran his small tongue along the sides of the bottle, noting that the liquid tasted faintly sweet, like some form of fruit; definitely not water.

When he was certain he'd gotten as much as he could glean from the sides of the bottle, Tart leaned forward and kissed the sleeping beauty before him deeply, his heart not only stopping, but petrifying in his chest.

In the corner of his mind, he noted that Pudding was just as sweet as her namesake suggested.

The rest of his mind was devoted to wishing that she were awake and alert enough to return it.

After a few seconds that seemed much like a miniature eternity Tart stepped back, almost ready to faint. The plan had been to LEAVE as soon as she awakened, but he couldn't take his eyes off her face...and her pale cheeks, which were regaining their color, her shivering having stopped.

Pudding's eyelashes fluttered, the faintest hint of golden visible underneath them. Tart could see that she was still partially asleep.

He smiled, leaning forward again to hug her gently, so as not to fully awaken her. "I love you, monkey girl," he whispered in her ear.

And for once, Tart didn't bother to teleport, or glide -- he walked out of the room, and away from Pudding, lost in his thoughts. And as usual, quite a few of them were about her, and the monumental task he had at hand.  
------------------------

Pudding groaned, tossing restlessly. The light streaming through the window was annoying. She snuggled underneath her pillow, enjoying the warmth it provided.

The sunlight continued to illuminate her room, unfazed by her attempts to avoid it.

"Curse you and your enthusiasm, Mr. Sun!!" Pudding screeched, sitting straight up in bed and tossing her pillow at the window. She leapt to her feet, standing on the bed and raving, shaking her fist violently. "Don't you understand that there are terminally ill flu patients trying to get their beauty sleep around here??"

After about 30 seconds of manic activity, it dawned on Pudding that she no longer felt like a terminally ill flu patient. "Huh? I'm better already?" She performed a head over heels acrobatic leap onto the floor, landing in a perfect crouch.

Pudding blinked. "Maybe I'm still asleep and I'm just DREAMING I'm better! Yeah, that's it!" She pumped her fist in the air, proud of her deductive capabilities. She headed for the door, still chattering to herself. "That's kind of sad, seeing as I have to wake up eventually! But maybe I can go visit Dream Ichigo and Dream Lettuce and-"

Pudding sprawled across the floor, skidding slightly.

"Ow!" she whined, glancing over her shoulder to see what she'd tripped over. A very small pair of pants, probably one of the quadruplets', lay on the floor. "I thought dreams weren't supposed to hurt."

Pudding stood up, dusting herself off. She was no longer sure whether she was dreaming or not; logically, she couldn't have recovered from the flu overnight, not without some miracle. And hadn't Tart been...?

The memories of the day before ran through her mind, as much as she could remember -- the last thing she could remember was putting up groceries in the kitchen.

"Oh, no!" Pudding cried, suddenly remembering her plight of the day before. She rushed out of the room, kicking the pants out of the way before she tripped over them again. "Heicha! Hanacha! Lucha! Chin-"

Pudding stopped short, having reached the living room; her siblings were all snuggled up under blankets, two on the sofa, one partially underneath a table, two on the carpet. They were all snoring uproariously.

"...the kitchen must be on fire." Pudding muttered; she remembered the last time her siblings had been charged with feeding themselves. She headed for the kitchen, afraid of what she'd find there. She hoped that, had anything actually caught on fire, they would have bothered to put it out.

The kitchen was spotless.

Ordinarily Pudding would have passed out.

She stood perfectly still, gaze roving over the clean countertops, the clean cabinets, the nicely stacked packages of food.

"This is a nightmare!" Pudding shrieked. "Reality has shattered like a delicate Chinese tea set!" She ran into the living room, located Heicha and shaking her awake. "Heicha!"

Heicha murmured, slapping at Pudding weakly. "One more minutes..." she muttered sleepily.

"Heicha!!"

Heicha's eyes opened slightly, narrowing into a glare. "What, onee-chan??"

"What did you guys eat yesterday??" Pudding continued to shake her sister, even though it was highly unnecessary at that point.

Heicha glared at her. "Yakisoba. Tanaka-san got it for us."

Pudding released Heicha, who curled back up into her blanket. "Tanaka-san?"

She stood up, her brow crinkled in confusion. "Tar-Tar? But how...?" Pudding leaned back against the wall; for the life of her, she couldn't remember anything past passing out in the kitchen the day before.

One thing was for certain; somehow a miracle had taken place, and it had happened at Tart's hands.

Pudding dashed back to her room to get dressed -- she had to find him. She wasn't sure how she'd find him, unless the aliens were terrorizing downtown Tokyo again...but there were some things she had to know.

Her heart was already racing.  
------------------------

Heh heh heh. And you thought it would take another year and a half, didn't you? I apologize if this one is sort of choppy or feels rushed -- at this point, the story's pretty much over -- nothing left but the clean-up. I randomly referenced Disney's Tarzan up in there somewhere. I have no idea why.

I also took a few liberties with the design of the alien's ship; I don't know where Pie got the Mew Aqua. He seems to be the only one of our beloved villain trio blessed with intelligence, so it's not a stretch for him. Tart's probably still OOC. He'll be back to his bratty little self next chapter, I promise. Cleaning too big of a stretch? It's fluff. Fluff is lies and slander but it's cute enough for the lies and slander to not make a difference. Anyway, thanks for sticking with me for so long, guys. See you in the epilogue.


	11. Three Small Words

A.N.: Yeah, it's been awhile. Standard disclaimer applies -- I own nothing. :D

--

Tart was completely worn out by the time he returned to the ship, as the first orange flecks of daylight began to lighten the Tokyo skyline; he had barely enough energy to drag himself to his, Kish, and Pie's sleeping quarters, all but collapsing in his bed and instantly drifting off to sleep. He was far too tired to worry about the questioning look Pie had given him upon his return, nor the knowing grin plastered across Kish's face. He'd bother with coming up with an excuse for his tardiness after he woke up; emotional turmoil, petty theft, housekeeping and childcare had taken its toll on him.

Pie looked over at Kish, raising an eyebrow. "Is it worth asking him how he's been occupying himself in his absence?"

Kish shrugged. "Probably sampling the Tokyo cuisine. There are quite a bit of tasty treats out there," he added, with a wink. Pie folded his arms across his chest, his gaze stern. "Was that intended as a double entendre?"

Kish's eyes gleamed. "You're the resident genius. I'll leave that up to you," he replied cheerfully, his expression resembling the unnerving grin of a Cheshire cat as he rose into the air, vanishing dramatically, probably off to stare longingly at Earth until he could be sure Ichigo was awake. Even Kish wasn't psychotic enough to entertain ideas of annoying the fearless leader of the Mew Mews before she was fully alert; cats didn't awaken well, and Ichigo was no exception.

Pie sighed, leaning down to adjust the blanket Tart had wrapped around himself with his remaining energy before passing out. Sometimes he wondered whether he was the only sane individual among his teammates. He had the feeling he was right.

--

They were lying among the flowers again, her tail brushing up against his legs, fur warming his flesh. The sky above their heads was the lovely royal blue of falling twilight, a full moon hanging heavily in the summer sky. Tart wondered whether this place actually existed somewhere on Earth, in some remote area unpolluted by the taint and destruction of human beings, or whether it was the design of his own idealistic imagination.

She stretched, arching her back in a catlike manner. "Do you know?" Pudding asked, turning to face him. Tart kept his eyes trained on the sky -- if he looked hard enough, he could pick out a few stars, glowing feebly against the brilliant light of the moon. He knew he was dreaming; the Pudding of his dreams was far quieter and calmer than the Pudding he was used to. He found he preferred the noisier Pudding, although, as dreams went, it wasn't bad.

"Yes," he responded, closing his eyes in an expression of sheer happiness.

Pudding squealed, all but diving on him violently, wrapping her arms around his midsection. "Finally! You're so stubborn, Tar Tar."

"Stop calling me that."

"I don't wanna. I like Tar Tar."

"You're a figment of MY imagination." Tart pointed out. Pudding's response was to blow him a raspberry, tightening her grip on him. "I don't care," she said in a singsong voice.

Tart rolled his eyes. Even in his dreams, Pudding was wonderfully aggravating.

The stars were glittering now, in full competition with the moon. One of them fell, streaking across the sky in a burst of flame.

"Oh!!" Pudding pointed at the rapidly descending star excitedly. "Make a wish, Tar Tar!"

"Why?"

"Come on, before it disappears!!"

"Oh, fine," Tart grumbled. His experience with wishing was less than stellar; leaving him jaded -- although there was something about Pudding's childish excitement that sparked a twinge of innocence in him. "I wish-"

"You can't tell me or it won't come true!!" Pudding shrilled.

"Alright already, just shut up and stop screaming!" Tart snapped. Pudding complied, closing her eyes and clasping her hands together. The action seemed foolish to Tart; however, it wouldn't kill him to play along. He clasped his hands, closing his eyes and tilting his face towards the night sky.

I wish...I wish we could be like this forever.

Tart opened his eyes, his heart tingling. He didn't look at Pudding; here it was, again, facing him. "It won't come true."

Pudding's hand on his shoulder made him lift his head, staring up at her. She was smiling, her hair wild and fluttering in the light breeze, the expression on her young face warm and loving. "That's the thing about wishes, Tar Tar. They might not come true. But what matters is that you believe that they could, and never stop believing."

Tart gaped. "Who are you, and what did you do with Pudding?"

Pudding giggled, glomping him again, knocking him backwards into the flowers bedding the field. "Silly. I'm a figment of your imagination." She winked. "You already know all this, Tar Tar. So why pretend you don't know the answer when you've known it all along?"

Tart's response was to grab the girl, the figment of his imagination, and pull her close. The way he knew he would the next time he saw her, the Pudding of his waking moments. His rival, his enemy, and above all, his friend.

The sky above their heads exploded in a shower of falling stars, hundreds of wishes hurtling from the sky.

--

Pudding tended to act before thinking things through. She usually resorted to whipping up a batch of incense to take care of the poor schmuck on guard duty before even considering that the back entrance was also a viable option.

After a good couple of hours of running along the busy sidewalks of Tokyo, not heading in any specific direction, she realized that it probably wasn't the best method of locating an individual, especially one that technically didn't even reside on the planet itself.

Pudding groaned, smacking her forehead. "This is hopeless! Tar Tar could be anywhere." The thought occurred to her that she could just wait for signs of massive destruction and disturbance of the peace, but it probably wouldn't have a much better success rate.

She wandered aimlessly along the crowded sidewalk, lost in thought, yet somehow managing to expertly navigate the hustle and bustle of the business district. Pudding had no idea what Tart could had done to cure her illness, but all the evidence led to his involvement in her sudden recovery. Even more incredible was the fact that her house was still standing, and her siblings were all mostly intact. That in itself was a miracle, because it suggested that either her brothers and sister had matured beyond their destructive tendencies and managed to care for themselves for the night without incident, or, and this was the real kicker: Tart had taken care of them; if Heicha was to be believed it was the latter. Just the thought of the events the day before, and those that had apparently taken place while she was out cold, made her heart flutter with gratitude -- and a slight amount of embarrassment. It was quite flattering to have one's mortal enemy evolve from death threats and homicide attempts to playing babysitter for the night in less than 24 hours.

And that was why she had to find him; so she could ask the question that had been nagging at her ever since he'd refrained from letting her careen through the early evening air to her death on the sidewalk below: what, exactly, did he feel for her?

Pudding paused, staring up at the clear blue sky. She wished it wasn't so horrendously vast.

With a sigh of momentary defeat, the girl turned on her heel, heading in the direction of the nearby park.

--

Tart awakened much more peacefully than Pudding had a few hours earlier, sitting up and staring straight ahead at the sea of stars visible outside the ship, disoriented. He was thrown into a state of deep confusion at the absence of his teammates, seeing as Kish usually slept longer than he did himself; only when he felt the dull sting of the wound on his back did he remember the events of the day before. The memories came back in a flood, mixed images of Pudding, himself, the crows, and Pudding's siblings, all in a jumble that sorted itself into coherency as soon as they presented themselves.

Tart groaned, placing his head in his hands as he recalled the conversation that had passed between himself and Kish in the storage room. He couldn't believe he'd revealed so much to the older alien, especially regarding a matter he'd kept private for so long. "I'm an idiot," he chided himself.

Even worse was the concept that nothing had been solved. His friendship with Pudding had been strengthened, certainly, but that wasn't what Tart wanted, exactly. He wanted to tell Pudding he loved her, wanted to enlighten her to the decision he'd taken so long to finally give in to. But he had no idea how the confession would be met, whether Pudding's reaction would be to respond in kind or with disdain, denying that she felt anything other than friendship. And Tart couldn't take that.

He wondered whether Kish had ever felt it, that deep churning in the pit of his stomach before he faced Ichigo and poured out the contents of his heart to her. He thought he probably didn't, because everything came naturally to Kish -- but perhaps he did, even a twinge or flutter of nervousness. After all, even The Great Kish slipped up and fell for a fallible, weak human girl that also doubled as his mortal enemy every now and then. And maybe, he, too, had also felt quite the raging idiot then, realizing that he was placing both his integrity as a member of the team and his service to Deep Blue in jeopardy.

He had to tell her, somehow. He had to.

Kicking his blanket away, Tart slowly rose into the air, winking into non-existence...

...and winking back into existence in the midst of some shrubbery in the very same park he'd orchestrated his master plan in almost exactly 24 hours ago. He needed to think, before he rushed into anything. Tart lay back in the shrubs, which were soft and yielding, his mind spinning aimlessly.

--

Unbeknownst to Tart, Pudding was also lost in thought, and heading in his direction, in the very same park. Pudding's thoughts were amazingly similar -- she didn't know what she planned to say when she found Tart, how she planned to phrase the question that had been plaguing her since Tart had saved her, several times, not just starting with the day before. She expected it would pop out of her mouth before she had time to fully think about it, so planning didn't really have much of a place in the decision process. The question on the tip of her tongue was a simple 'why', but she had a feeling it would come out as a 'do you love me?' followed by a 'because I love you', and things would certainly be ruined, because anything Tart felt for her probably stopped at the 'grudging friendship' level, nothing more.

And anyway, how did she explain to her teammates that she was in love with the very alien that had tried to take them out on multiple occasions? That was something Pudding's mind tended to circumvent, a problem she didn't really bother thinking about because she couldn't foresee a plausible solution to it. Then again, she didn't know whether Tart loved her as much as she did him, so, as heartbreaking as it was, it really hadn't asserted itself as much of a problem yet.

As Pudding was thinking this, wandering with no particular direction in mind through the open shrubbery, she came face to face with the consequences of not taking care to watch where one is going: her foot connected with something soft and squishy, something that yelped as she came in contact with it, and Pudding toppled over the foreign object with a shriek. Two shrieks, to be exact – the soft, squishy something she'd tripped over shrieked in unison. The fact that the shriek sounded somewhat familiar was a piece of information that fled Pudding's mind as she landed face-first in the shrubs – half on top of the something (someone) she'd tripped over.

"Oh, great," Pudding sat up, rubbing the dust from her eyes frantically. "Now I've got an undead dead body to deal with. Why do I always end up involved in murder mysteries on my days off?"

Tart, the soft, squishy something she'd tripped over, remained quiet, his eyes rolled heavenward as he cursed his luck. His first instinct, before he realized it was Pudding who'd had the audacity to try to fall over him and ultimately failed at it (effectively winding him) was to shove the newcomer off him and give them a piece of his mind, possibly backed up with a couple of potshots with a throwing knife or two. But he'd recognized the shriek instantly – at this point he had to wonder whether Fate was having a bit of fun with him, as his 'planning' was nowhere near finished. Oh, well, it wasn't the first time he'd had to improvise.

"That would make sense if I was actually dead, monkey girl," he deadpanned, propping himself up on his elbows and watching her with a critical eye. Pudding's eyes shot open, slightly red from her actions. "Tar Tar?"

Ordinarily the nickname would have driven him insane – by now, he'd come to appreciate it somewhat. Tart sighed, not exactly unhappily. "I kinda need to breathe, you know."

Pudding suddenly became aware of where she was sitting, and Tart had the satisfaction of watching a rosy blush spread across her cheeks as she hastily scooted her way out of his lap. "I'm sorry, Tar Tar! I wasn't trying to crush your insides!"

"Heh." Tart puffed his tiny chest out with an air of masculinity. "It'd take a lot more than what you can dish out to put me out of commission." He noticed that something was wrong when Pudding didn't respond in her usual effervescent manner, sitting beside him with her chin resting on her knees. "You're not still sick, are you?" He ventured, more than a little concern coloring his tone.

Pudding shook her head, uncharacteristically bashful. "I'm okay. Um…Tart…thank you for whatever you did to make me better…and taking care of my sister and brothers. I…you did do something, right?"

It was Tart's turn to look away, avoiding her gaze as his own cheeks began to burn. "Yeah. You helped me, so…" It was a very bad excuse, and he knew it, but nothing else came to mind, especially when he thought of the specifics of his administering the Mew Aqua. "So…now we're even. I think."

"Oh." Pudding sounded vaguely disappointed, and Tart mentally kicked himself. Why couldn't he just SAY it without having to hide it behind an insult? Hadn't he just reached the epiphany that was SUPPOSED to allow him to stop acting like such a…little kid? "Thank you again. It was very nice of you to help me."

She fell silent, lost in her own thoughts, as did Tart himself, staring at the expanse of the sky.

"_Stop acting like a little kid! Just tell her already!"_

"_If he wasn't your friend, he'd have vaporized you or knifed you in the head by now. Just ask him…you're braver than this."_

Both of their resolves flaring at exactly the same moment, both Pudding and Tart turned to each other at the same time.

"Pudding, I-"

"Tar Tar-"

The blushing fest began once again, Pudding's gaze dropping to her lap – Tart was surprised that he managed to hold on to the resolve it had taken him so long to build. Of course, the second he opened his mouth (making sure to look at anything but the girl in front of him) it began to slink away, leaving him grasping for words he was certain he knew but was having the hardest time actually saying.

"So um…I was thinking. Girls…girls are stupid. That's universal." Tart felt like kicking himself, especially when he saw the twinge of annoyance on Pudding's face. Still he pressed on – it was now or never. "And humans are stupid too. They're only a little better than girls, except that's still pretty bad."

"Darn it, Tar Tar!" Pudding shouted, shaking her fist within an inch of his nose. "Why must you always assault my self-esteem?"

"Shut up and listen!" Tart shouted back. "I'm trying to say something important!"

Pudding fell back, her arms crossed over her chest. She was pretty sure he was simply running off at the mouth again, but two blows against her honor as both a girl and a human in such a small span of time was starting to get her riled.

"Anyway…so you're both a human AND a girl…so you don't have much going for you…but I think this planet is affecting me negatively or something, because I'm supposed to hate you and…I…" At that point Tart's resolve gave out, leaving him with his mouth hanging open and his face red as he tried to muster the courage to say the dreaded final words.

Pudding looked up at that moment, her eyes shining and a brilliant smile on her face as the pieces of what Tart was trying (and failing) to say fell into place. "It's okay, Tar Tar. I love you too."

Tart almost fell over, waving his hands in front of him in an absolute failure of a denial. "No! That isn't what I was going to say!! I was going to say I don't _hate_ you, but-"

"Really?" Pudding inched closer to him, bringing her face close to his, knowingly increasing his agitation. "Then why is your face all red?"

Tart tried to move away and realized he was rooted to the spot. "Why are you looking at my face anyway? Crazy stalker girl!"

Pudding's grin became mischievous. "I can't help it. You have a big head, Tar Tar."

"Oh yeah? Well your head is stupid!" Tart snapped, poking her in the forehead. Pudding laughed, continuing to inch forward. "That's Ichigo's favorite word, too. Other than Masaya."

Tart growled, hands drifting up to grab his hair in frustration. "You're soo irritating! I don't even know why I love-"

The expression on Pudding's face confirmed his mistake. Tart fell silent; he recognized the look in the girl's eye. "Oops," was the last thing he managed to say before Pudding launched herself at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and throwing him back against the ground as she planted a flurry of childish kisses on his cheeks in the while laughing maniacally.

And Tart made no attempt to move whatsoever.

--

The afternoon sky was a lovely golden color, with the occasional bird soaring across his line of vision. Tart and Pudding lay on their backs, still among the shrubs, although Pudding had finally let up, stretching out beside him to watch the clouds.

"You could have moved," she pointed out, her tone one of amusement.

"Maybe I didn't feel like it," came the reply, Tart's voice having resumed its cockiness. Pudding was glad – nervousness didn't really suit him.

"That's because you _love_ me," Pudding teased.

"I'm entitled to poor judgment, too," Tart said offhandedly.

Pudding yawned, shifting to find a more comfortable position. "This is a verbally abusive relationship. Like that episode of Jigoku-"

"Shoujo," Tart finished, to Pudding's surprise. "That wasn't a bad episode. It wasn't great, though."

"You watch TV?"

"What else are we supposed to do when we're not trying to kill you guys?" Tart yawned as well. "Pie just picks up the cable signals on one of the deck monitors. I told him I could just steal a flat screen TV but he's opposed to 'petty' crime."

"Oh. Have you seen Crossroads?"

"Yeah."

"Do you like it?"

"No."

"Me neither. All the other girls talk about it _all_ the time, though."

"Girls."

"…I kinda have to agree."

Tart turned to stare at her, his expression somewhat dismal. "This isn't good, you know. I'm supposed to be trying to kill you in hopes of eradicating your race and taking control of your planet."

"Hm." Pudding racked her brain, trying to piece together the random pieces of gossip she'd been privy to. "Well… Mint loves Zakuro, even though Zakuro has the emotional capability of a doughnut…Ichigo, Masaya and Kish are involved in a dysfunctional love triangle…and Lettuce is romantically repressed and needs to hook up with Ryou, who's a shameless flirt and needs to settle down so they can marry each other and have mermaid babies!"

It was all Tart could do not to laugh himself to death. Pudding smirked. "I don't know why everyone thinks it's okay to gossip about people I know when I'm around. But…I guess everyone's relationships are weird and like something out of a shoujo anime, and at least we don't both hate each other, so even if you're supposed to be trying to kill me and I'm supposed to be trying to kill you so you don't kill me we're doing better than almost everyone else. Because we're not confused and in denial and stuff."

Tart had to agree – Pudding's statement, as confusing and rambling as it was, did make a lot of sense. Even she could be insightful at times. He especially agreed with the next line: "And that's sad, because they're OLDER than us."

"Idiots." Tart said in affirmation, nodding his head. Although the moment of unison was broken as Pudding continued, the smirk evident in her voice: "Anyway, at the rate you guys are going, you could be at it forever. We'll be grown up and married and have seventeen kids before you actually manage to DO something."

"Hey!" Tart leapt to his feet, standing over her threateningly. "Are you trying to say we don't know what we're doing, monkey girl?"

Pudding shrugged. "You said it, not me!"

"Alright, that's it." Tart leaned down to seize the squealing girl around the midsection, hoisting her over his shoulder in one fluid motion and teleporting a good fifteen feet into the air. "I'm going to drop you off the side of Tokyo Tower!"

"Whoohoo!" Pudding cheered. "Hey, once you finish killing me can we get some ice cream?"

"Ice cream?"

"You've never had ice cream? It's so yummy…" Pudding's voice trailed off, mingling with Tart's as they embarked on another joy ride throughout the Tokyo skies – although this time Pudding knew for certain that Tart wouldn't let her fall.

--

Kish leaned back against the trunk of the large oak he'd been resting in all afternoon, watching the proceedings with his usual knowing, almost manic Cheshire cat grin. He shook his head, folding his arms behind his head as he lay back to doze for awhile before heading off to see what Ichigo was up to. "I have to admit," he muttered to himself, "The little midget is _good_. I'll have to ask him what his secret is."

--

-- The End –-

--

A.N.: IT TOOK FOUR YEARS, PEOPLE. I'm so sorry I took that long to finish. I really lost confidence in my ability to write for a long, long time. I read over what I'd written, and I would keep trying to write and then giving up, frustrated. So I hadn't written anything in awhile, and I was feeling down the other day. I was really surprised when I checked my email and found a review! I was expecting after my absence for so long that no one would pay attention to this fic anymore and I'd be justified in not finishing it…I didn't expect that anyone at all would wait for me, or think it was good enough to keep checking in on it. So I'm dedicating this chapter to everyone that's stuck with me so far, with a special shout-out to RamenIsRad – you brought me out a pretty bad depression the other day.

I'm sorry for any OOC-ness…the thing about writing for anime where the subject matter exceeds the limits of the characters you're working with is that you've got to work to think about how this character would handle this new situation based on a limited amount of situations you've viewed them in, and that can be kinda hard sometimes. Still, I hope everyone enjoyed the fluff…there's more sap here than in the entire maple population of Canada. As for the fact that they're technically only kids – all I have to say is Chibi-Usa and Helios. I made a couple of fourth wall breaking references: Jigoku Shoujo (Hell Girl) and the fact that the Juuban area in Sailor Moon is referred to as Crossroads in the dub version. As for the random '-' lines -- the formatting thing on hates me.

At any rate, I've seen a couple of people mention the concept of a sequel…so 'Long Distance Relationship' is in the works! It'll be a little harder to write, as I'm planning for it to take place close to ten years from the close of Denial, and I want everyone to still be in character. I could use a beta reader or two, if anyone's interested. But yeah – thank you everyone for reviewing, for following this fic for so long, and all the encouragement. You guys are awesome. :D

See you in LDR!


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